


Princess

by Sarcasm_Smiles



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst, F/M, Mental Health Issues, Patrick Hockstetter is His Own Warning, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:42:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25565320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarcasm_Smiles/pseuds/Sarcasm_Smiles
Summary: Story Synopsis-It’s been a universal tale that high school is supposed to be the ‘best’ four years of your life. To whom ever said that, you’re a fucking liar and I hope someone spits on your grave.High school is a shit show, compiled to fail you on the real world stage; You are molded- rather, sculpted and pampered; Thrown into an arena before being dumped into the coliseum. If you don’t survive the arena, you’ll be trampled.Welcome to my arena.Rated R for Violence and Violent Themes, Explicit Sexual content, NSFW, Triggering topics etc...Notes & Warnings- This is an interracial story. Trigger warning for Sexual Assualt, Non-con like themes, Dubious Consent, Angst, Violence, so on and so forth.
Relationships: Bowers Gang/ Reader, Bowers gang - Relationship, Henry Bowers/Reader, Patrick Hockstetter/Reader, Pennywise (IT)/Reader
Comments: 5
Kudos: 59





	1. "What's your name Princess?"

**Author's Note:**

> I've started writing this on Tumblr back in 2018 and I wanted to post it on this platform and then maybe my Wattpad account. I do plan to continue it I'm just procrastinating for now.

No one really understood why you had liked the boy in the first place. Patrick was your grade-A bully and for someone like him to get someone like you to fall for him was in itself, confusing. What caused your sudden infatuation with the crazed boy? Simply Him.

Every day for the past two months Patrick had watched you and studied you; Wondering, from what part of his mind had mustered up something that was...you? You weren’t like the others he had created. For starters, you were exaggerated, to say the least. Well, that is, in comparison to the other girls that were surrounding him.

Your hair was dark and curly—some days it sat messily atop your head, other days out and sporadic; those days you hated the most, every time you walked by him there was no avoiding him pulling at your hair. Your backside was larger and rounder than the other girls, and you were short. Well everyone to Patrick was short, even his father. But you? You were short, roughly five feet. Five three if he’s measured you correctly.

What else had made you different than the most in Patrick’s eyes? Your lips, hips, and curves. Not to mention your dark brooding eyes that tended to capture his in a stare off outside of school, or in class. He was lucky to get you to look his way at lunch.

But, it was more than just your looks and ethnicity that had him gawking at you with cynical ideas. It was your camera and how you treated it. You took the damn thing with you everywhere. Along with a sketchbook, you would let distract you often if he ever saw you at lunch with it.

—You were always seen with them, except for that one time when you were late for school and you had left early.

On days you did catch Patrick starring you had to sit and ask yourself, What in the fuck was his deal? Patrick didn’t have the normal stare as most other bullies did. He didn’t look at you with boredom or curiosity. He always gave you a stare with this dead look in his eyes, it was sadistic, to say the least. Often times than not, with a blank expression and a fire in his eyes.

He would look on as if to mentally take his time undressing you, taking in all your details, be sure not to miss a single one before hobbling you up and keeping you trapped in his mind of chaos.

The days began to approach October, which meant Patrick saw you less frequently. Most days you came to school, some days you didn’t. And for the days you didn’t come to school, Patrick felt... off. More off than normal.

But to his luck, that Monday, three weeks from Halloween. You had been different when you walked in. That is only where your hair is concerned. Your dark curls dawned golden-gray highlights and were shorter. Having been cut up to your neck instead of surpassing your shoulders.

Patrick had excused himself from Henry and the others as they beat into Richie's face for his usual unnecessary comments, as you took your time applying extra lip balm.

Kids of all ages move out of his way as he slowly approaches you at your locker. Taking long slow strides that ate up the ground because of his long legs. You were unsuspecting while placing and trading books out. His eyes scanned for your camera, soon enough as he got closer to you he could see it inside your messenger bag. How cute, He thought.

Once he was beside you, his arm reached up above you and slammed your locker door shut causing you to scream and drop your lip balm. When you turned around to face the culprit your eyes widened slightly.

He was bold enough to actually approach you, you weren’t scared but rather impressed. You had assumed he would watch you from the sidelines and annoy you with his lingering stares and annoying petty gestures. Patrick gives you a chilling shit-eating grin before speaking. “What’s your name princess.”

“What’s it to you?” You ask as you bend down to grab your lip balm. Quickly, Patrick takes his boot-clad foot and steps on it. Crushing it, causing your hand to shake.

Standing to your full height you huff and face your locker. You open it and grab a piece of gum from your little stash. “Here, I’ll go first.” He speaks and places an arm in front of you.

“I’m Patrick,” He grins and puts a curl behind your ear. “what’s your name?” He asks again. You rolled his name on your tongue for a moment before speaking it out loud. “Patrick?” You ask.

The way you spoke his name made him realize how truly gentle you were. Your voice was as soft and balanced as he imagined it. Mentally, Patrick was praising himself for this beautiful creation in front of him, without his meds, he could really muster up something worthwhile.

“I’m Y/n.” You shrug and close your locker. You lock it and pull at it for good measure before fully facing him, your arms crossed against your chest; A defense mechanism, one of your many subtle traits was that you didn’t accept and or trust easily. Patrick smirks at you as you look around. Some kids looked on and gave you looks. Some full of fear, some full of jealousy and some even confused. You’ll admit, although Patrick was a pretty fucked up individual, he was beautiful.

His long fingers play along the outside of your hand before he speaks. “What’s with the camera?” He asks and pokes at it through your bag. “It’s a camera.” You shrug and pull back. He smirks at you and blocks you in.

The first bell rang as you tried to move from his physical prison. “I gotta go to class.” You murmur and make a go for moving but he blocks it. Patrick admires you for a moment. How could something so imaginary be so realistic? As he looked you over you studied him. He was quite the muse himself.

You began to picture him in certain settings and snapping his picture or a few; That was your hobby art, taking pictures of nouns or creating masterpieces from nothing with pencils. You told your mom that one day you would produce the most beautiful pieces of art. Just you, your sketchbook, and your camera. And here he was, this crazed and demented boy, looking as pretty as ever.

“Patrick!” Henry hollered his name from across the hall. Belch and Vic were chasing after a small kid, probably a seventh-grader while Henry was trying to get Hockstetter’s attention.

“Give me a minute,” Patrick muttered and cupped your face. “Say this princess, meet me after school? Bring your camera and that sketchbook.”

Pat moves from in front of you and you look on shocked. “Why? What do you want with me and my camera?” You ask him.

Patrick looks over his shoulder and licks his lips sinisterly. “Why else?”

When the final bell rang you were wary as you walked to your locker. From the corner of your eye, you could already see Henry Bowers waiting alongside Victor Criss. —Victor was in your English class, a pretty boy with a passion for poetry...no matter how ugly his handwriting was. There was this one time you were partnered with him for an English assignment, a small friendship blossomed between the two of you as he was obsessed with getting his picture taken, and having you, read his poetry.

“Hi boys.” You mumble casually as you open your locker. Victor moves to your other side and nudges your shoulder. “You got my photos?” He asks.

You nod and pull out the manila folder full of twenty-six pictures of just him. He smiles and pays you. Only thirty dollars short from the One fifty he owed. “Thanks a bunch, my dance instructor wants a visual portfolio.” He smiles and kisses your cheek before rushing off to catch the bus to take him down to the studio.

“Catch you later Bowers.” He speaks and flies through the doors. After you trade binders for homework folders, you close up your locker and face the mullet head. “What’s your deal?” You ask him.

Henry stands up straight, his glare deepening as he looks at you. “You Y/n?” He asks and uncrosses his arms, one hand stuffed into his left pocket. “Yeah, anyone else go by that name?” You ask back.

Henry rolls his eyes and scoffs. “Listen here girl,”

“Girl? Didn’t you just ask for my name?” You cut him off. Henry’s short fuse lights and he grabs you by the hair. You pull and claw at his hand but he’s relentless as he drags you out the building. When he lets you go he’s tossing you onto the ground right by Patrick’s feet.

“Wow.” Patrick laughs and doubles over. You stand to your feet with a glare of your own while you dust off your butt, then face the two. “Real funny jackasses.”

Henry rolls his eyes and walks to Belch Huggins. You recognized him from the football team. Considering you and your camera skills, you were asked to take their pictures for the yearbooks. He waved and you waved back. Patrick noticed the small action and glared at Belch causing the boy to get in his car rather quickly. “Let’s go Henry,” Belch yelled and Henry nodded.

As he walks by you he slams into your shoulder, the both of you sharing an intense anger-filled stare. When Belch speeds off, Patrick is grabbing your arm harshly. “So you're a 'hidden' artist.” He starts and walks in the direction of your car practically pulling you along with him.

You gain your own beat and pull your arm from his hold, walking beside him as equals. “Yeah, what about it.” You shrug and get your car keys. He faces you and cups your cheeks. “Well, now I’m your muse.” He speaks. You raise an eyebrow and look at him. A small chuckle leaves your lips as he gets in your car.

Rolling your eyes you get in and carefully place your bag in the backseat. “So you mean to tell me,” you say and start your car. “That for the time you’ve been eyeing me you’ve wanted me to take your picture?”

Patrick looks at you and leans forward just a little bit. Invading your personal bubble. “No, not just that.” He smirks. Soon his hands are on your cheeks and his lips are on your own for the sake of intensity. His teeth nibble at your bottom lip with a ferocity, you're pushing him back and away from you like a bad habit. “Ow.” You groan and touch your lip. A small dabble of blood lines your fingertip. He smirks and licks his lips clean of the little trance of blood your lips left on his. “Now you're my girlfriend.”

You pull out of the parking space rolling your eyes; you navigate the student parking lot and get on the main road. “Whatever.” You shrug and turn on your blinker. Patrick’s eyes stretch just a bit as he taps his foot along to the classic Seether song. He was surprised at you. You had willingly given up your submission. “But on one condition,” You tell him and stop at a red light.

He turns to you, eagerness in his eyes. “What’s that princess?” You regard him with a serious look. “Stop fucking calling me princess.”


	2. "I promise I won't bite... much"

Early Thursday morning was the hardest when you turned over and faced your door, eyes bleary as you were just waking up. Amanda, the step-parent, was watching you with intense and angry eyes. Your brows knitted together as you stared at her, matching the intensity of your disgust for the woman in your doorway, with a glare of your own that by far had sent chilling shivers down her spine. “What is it?” You ask, your voice rough and raspy. She crosses her arms and shifts her weight, looking at you as if you should already know what it is you've done this time.

“There is a boy downstairs,” she speaks with an edge. Rolling your eyes and clearing your throat you respond, “Yeah, I know. His name is Simon?” You tell her referring to your half brother. You turn over on to your back ready to grab a few extra minutes of sleep, covering your eyes with your arm. Amanda scoffs and stomps in your room, walking the few steps it would take to get to your bed, snatching your blankets off of you and pulling your arm from your face. You meet her blue eyes with a harsh glare and sit up in your bed. The two of you stare as you pull the blankets off of your and storm past her with a nastier glare than the one before.

Who could possibly be downstairs that has Amanda breaking the rules that you had set in place? If your father were home you wouldn’t mind giving him an earful about why you just so happened to fight Amanda for a second time. You went down the stairs skipping one in between as Amanda stormed behind you closely. Taking a sharp turn you see Simon in front of the tv with a stuffed dinosaur while someone sat beside him watching the cartoons on screen. Hearing the loud banging, Patrick and your half brother turn around. “Bubby!” Simon perks up as he sees you and rushes to you.

You smile down at him and pick him up as he reaches for you. “Hi, baby.” You murmur to him and hold your brother to you tightly. Although you have slight angst against the four-year-old, you keep in mind that it’s not his fault that he was born. It wasn't his fault that he was himself, there wasn't much you could do about that.

Patrick gives you a dopey grin at your brother's nickname. It was Simon's weak attempt at saying 'baby', so he settled for 'Bubby' instead. You honestly thought it was cute because, well he was four. “Hi princess.” Patrick smiles and stands.

“I told you about calling me that stupid shit.” You roll your eyes, but you were going to greet him back until Amanda cleared her throat. Turning around to face her with Simon in your arms she gave you a tight-lipped smile. “Who’s this Y/n?” She asks and reaches for Simon who clung tighter to you. You roll your eyes and hug him, rubbing his back as you sigh heavily.

Pointing to Patrick you cleared your throat. “I’m only saying this once and once only. Patrick this is Amanda, Amanda this is Patrick. Simon, I have to get ready. I’ll be out in fifteen.” You set Simon down and stomped past Amanda, your shoulder going against hers angrily as you walk by her. You watched each other with hatred as you ascended the stairs with harsh footsteps.

***

After a whirl of fifteen minutes, you were downstairs kissing Simons chunky cheeks goodbye, snatching two pop tarts and dragging Patrick out to your car by the collar of his shirt, a pop tart in your mouth. Patrick chuckles and pulls you back, shaking your hand off of his body as he looks down at you with wicked eyes. “I have a few questions to ask.” He smirks.

“Ask them in the car,” you spoke around the pop tart and opened the driver's side door. Patrick licks his lips slyly and moves around to the passenger seat. Once the door is shut you pull out the driveway. “First, before the questions, I have car rules.” You speak and shove your curls out of your face angrily. “Don’t touch shit that isn’t yours.” You spoke holding up one finger.

“Two,” You speak and glance over the boy who was looking straight ahead, picking at the second half of the pop tart couple and eating it. “If there’s food, don’t spill shit.” At a red light, you look at him and he nods and places his arm along the headrests. “Three, the driver picks the music, and passenger shuts their cake-hole.”

Bursting with laughter Patrick throws his head back and scoots a little bit closer to you as he turns up the radio. You press the gas as the light changes. “I’m not in the mood to go to school, you?” You ask him as he rolls down his window. “No.” He looks at you. “My questions, can I ask them now princess?” He grins.

You glare straight ahead, Patrick quickly learned how much you hated the word princess. Therefore he would call you it because he can get away with it. “Are you a virgin?” He asks you and pulls at your hair gently.

“Yeah, why?” You ask and smack his hand away, turning on your blinker and turn left. “Well, not for long.” He murmurs, a soft mischievous laugh on his lips.

Glancing you turn onto a dirty rocky road you find a place to park before you respond to his casually calm statement. “Oh?” Coming to a stop you cut the engine parking, and then face Patrick. He was now busying himself with a pack of clove cigarettes. You reach over and help him open the pack. “What makes you so sure that you're to be the first person I fuck?”

Patrick’s cold grey-green eyes meet yours. He moves forward hovering over your lips. The close proximity made you still for a moment. His ring clad fingers trace over your cheeks and bottom lip. “Because you're my girlfriend now.” He murmurs and takes a cigarette from the pack that lay limp in your hands.

He scoots back in his seat and lights it. You roll your eyes and reach into the backseat. Grabbing your bag you look around inside for your sketchbook. “You have a great ass.” He speaks around his cigarette. Chuckling you sit back properly and flip to a new page. “Thanks.” You murmur.

Putting your feet up and over Patrick’s lap, you get comfortable. Within this moment he looked great. The sun's beam came and shone through the trees giving a speckled looking halo around his head. The way he smoked his cigarette made smoking cigarettes look hot. You began to slowly sketch his silhouette.

Every now and then you would look up and take a mental snap of his position. It went on like this for only a few moments before he moved. “What’re you drawing?” He asks and leans forward. Groaning you shove his face back in its original position. “Don’t move.” You tell him with annoyance, you didn’t look up at him and your eyebrows were raised. You continued to draw him based on your last mental snapshot.

Patrick looked at you through the corner of his eyes, continuing to smoke all the while straining to see what you were doing. You were taking your time to study his features as you’ve never seen someone like him. His ego was beginning to inflate like a balloon, who would’ve thought that Patrick could’ve created something so attentive.

Continuing to smoke his cigarette he thought of you. You were somewhat different than all of his other creations. So mature, and actually beautiful. He’ll admit, you were beautiful, and he was keeping you around despite Henry’s racial biases.

It felt like hours since Patrick moved but he wasn’t complaining. He was being admired, by his most admirable companion. “I’m done.” You murmur and shrug down, rubbing your finger along the thin lines.

“You know, you’re a really good muse for media.”

Patrick turned and pulled the sketchbook from your hands gently. He inspected the page. As he did you sat up straight and bit your lip.

What if he didn’t like it? Or thought it was ugly? What if your penmanship was sloppy? Your insecurities were running rampant as he looked at the page. You sat back instead of looking over his shoulder at your artwork. You were already planning on tossing it until he spoke. “I really like it.” You look over at him with wide eyes.

“What?”

Patrick grins and tosses his cigarette out the window. “I really like it.” Closing the book he places it over the dashboard and pulls you closer. “Now for my own artwork.” He chuckles.

Patrick moves very quickly. He sets aside the sketchbook on the dashboard and moves in, leaning down and guiding you into a position slouched against the door. Patrick’s lips go straight for your neck. His hands trail down and grip your hips, pulling you over his lap as his tongue touches your tender skin. You suck in a deep breath as his hands grip your butt. You hold onto his shoulders tightly as he begins to suck the damp area. Patrick pushes his crotch up to meet yours. He rubs against you, you could so clearly feel the threateningly thick bulge in between your legs.

“Patrick.” You gasp as his arms wrap tightly around you pulling you down tightly against him, enjoying rubbing himself against you. “Patrick stop.” You moan softly as he pushes against you. As you push away Patrick bites down. “Ow!” You yell.

Patrick chuckles against your skin as he bites harder while sucking. The pain sizzled around the area but was canceled out by the warm tingling pleasure he was causing between your legs.

Soon enough you were laying on your back as Patrick moved on to the other side of your neck. Biting a bruising it up as you clung to his shirt. His hands that are on your hips tighten as you cry out in pain. He was getting off on actually hurting you.

“Patrick.” You wine as you smack the side of his arm. He leans up with a determined dangerous look in his eyes. “I’m not done.”

***

“You jackass.” You growl at him as you clean up the literal wounds on your neck. It was roughly lunchtime so no one was at home. Amanda was at her shitty desk job at the hospital, Simon was at Daycare where she worked, and dad wouldn’t be home till late from his work. Patrick stood in the doorway of your bathroom as you winced and touched your neck. “How am I supposed to cover this?” You ask and drop the piece of tissue in the sink. It was slightly bloody and pink.

“Well now everyone will know you’re my girlfriend.” He shrugs and moves to sit on the toilet. Rolling your eyes you sigh. “Can’t you be like other guys and give me normal hickeys?”

Patrick rolls his eyes. “I’m not a normal guy.” He tells you tentatively and stands up, to the point he towers over you, the lanky boy was much taller than you. “I don’t do normal.” He grins, putting air-quotes in the air when he says 'Normal' and picks you up, placing you on the counter facing him so he can between your legs.

“What’re you doing?” You ask him as he plays with the button on your jeans. “Indulging.” He grins. Without even a second thought Patrick had pulled your pants down and was between your legs again.

“Now, what shall we do here?” He asks, a dark smirk rolling over his sinful lips.

“Not a damn thing.” You push him back slightly and get down. From the floor, Patrick admires you in just an orange sweater and pale gray panties. His lips pull back into a large grin. “Mmm, you’re delicious.”

Rolling your eyes you walk over him leaving your pants behind. Patrick scrambles to his feet and follows you to your room. “This is even better.” He grins and pulls you back.

Your butt was flush against his still tough erection, his hands had no morals and laid themselves comfortably on your breast. “I promise, I won’t bite,” He chuckles, “much.”


	3. "Could you like the Boy? Maybe.."

After three weeks of being in and out of school. Dodging people and beginning to understand the values in turtleneck sweaters, you finally cracked and broke character. In the metaphorical sense that is. You knew to keep a tight discipline on your character and how people see you. The bottom line, you wouldn’t risk being labeled ‘The angry black girl’... living with that title is like a death sentence... in the metaphorical sense, and hopefully, it stays that way.

“I cannot believe your seriously that creeps girlfriend,” Melinda spoke obnoxiously at the table of girls. You couldn’t care less about the fact that everyone was watching your every move since you pulled up to school with Patrick in your front seat, but surely, the attention was exhausting. You understood it was a major shock, this is Patrick we're talking about. He was his own warning and you took that and shoved it in the garbage when you "publicly" announced that you were his girlfriend.

“Like, he’s totally cray' and gross. Tell her Greta.” She points her fry at the ginger. Mentally you roll your eyes while you look between the two girls at the table of girls. “She’s not wrong,” Greta speaks and throws a napkin your way. She had used the napkin before she tossed it in your direction.

The small tissue touches the page of your sketchbook as it had been left lying open when you turned your attention to your food to eat a bit of it, before continuing your drawing of nothing in particular. “Ew seriously?” You pick it up with a fork and shove it back on to her plate. “That’s fucking disgusting.” You give her a look but she rolls her eyes, shrugging it off as something playful but you were serious. You thought Greta was a pretty okay human being but she did have poor hygiene practices...such as thinking that tossing around used napkins was acceptable, it wasn't. It was disgusting. Especially if you weren't tossing it around to the trash bin.

It’s been like this all morning and up until lunch, the stares and the constant off-handed comments as well as the little minuscule actions like sticking gum under desks and spitting onto the hallway floors. Having enough of the girls going on about your decisions you stand up, catching Patrick’s attention as you briskly walk out of the cafeteria. “What she like?” Henry asks as he takes Belch's burger.

“Y/n is nice and fucking cool,” Victor spoke with attention elsewhere. Patrick gives him a look. “How would you know?” He asks menacingly, in his mind he was egging Vic to go on and give him a reason to jump across the table and beat his face in. How would he know how you were, Victor had no business being with what was his. “Because she's in my English class and was my partner at one point. She helped with my dance portfolio.” Victor hadn't looked up to see the terrifying look Patrick was giving him, for now, Patrick would let it go...that didn't mean that he wasn't going his eye on him closely now. For territorial reasons only.

Henry snickers with the roll of his eyes. “Of course, you’re still going to those sissy classes?” Henry teases angrily and pinches Victor's arm. Victor had some thick skin, dealing with Henry and Patrick's teasing for his interest in the arts...and his interest in people. Belch nods along to the violent banter that was brewing between Henry and Vic, which gave Patrick the perfect excuse to get up and leave the table in search of you.

He followed after the bundle of curls down the hall and into the girl's bathroom. Washing her hands seemed pretty normal for her, but she looked..., well she looked good for Patrick. “This is the girl's bathroom.” You speak and meet his daring eyes through the mirror.

You turn around and dry your hands as he approaches you. Patrick had a habit of kissing you. Whether it was in between classes, in the hall, in your sleep. It was just a habit. When he kissed you, he felt more so alive than anything. Although you’re nothing more than a figment of his imagination, or so he’s perceiving, you were starting to mean something. Something more than a rag doll that he could boss around and or, torment in a variety of ways. This had only happened once in his lifetime and he wasn't looking forward to disposing of you so quickly. He had to put you back in your place.

His hands cupped your cheeks and his lips attacked yours for a well deserved moment before you were being shoved back into the sink with a threatening force. You make a choked noise in his mouth as he kisses the literal breath out of your lungs. You push him away from you as best as you could, creating some much-needed distance.

Catching your breath from the harsh movement you looked up at Patrick with wide eyes. “Seriously?!” You asked, rubbing at your back. “That actually hurt.”

Patrick smirked. He grabbed at your neck, irritating the new hickeys he added just yesterday. “I don’t care.” He muttered. With his other hand, he pulls at your hair. “We have an understanding don’t we?” He asks lowly, his eyes going void.

You hold your tongue, fighting back from the intense pain in your scalp. Patrick was watching you intently, waiting for a smidge of fear to gloss over in your eyes. Once it did his actions were arbitrary.

***

Once the final bell rang you avoided going to your locker all together and went straight for your car. You could care less about Chemistry homework, you’ll do it tomorrow. For now, it would be best to avoid Patrick and his friends. As well as yours for that matter. They would just hold you back from your escape and avoiding Patrick was the only thing buzzing in your mind right now.

As you got to the car you could’ve sworn you heard him laughing, his little. ominous laughter but it was different. It was an off kind of laughter, a little more cynical and lot more maniacal but not quiet Patrick. Your steps falter as you inspected your car with unease. Maybe you were still freaked out about what happened in the bathroom, but you could've sworn you heard him. As you look around and across the street, you see a clown, he stares at you with a dead look, it's mouth slack as it watches you. It lifts its free-hand and waves before letting go of the red balloon. 

Your shoulders tense up subconsciously feeling a presence. “Were you planning on leaving without me?” His chilling voice spoke behind you. You're startled and you turn around to face Patrick, your unease turns to annoyance as you look up to the lanky boy. Thoughts of that unsettling clown far gone as you gather your wits and face the boy.

“Yeah.” You gulped and saved face in front of him, God forbid he actually see unease and fear in your eyes. Patrick’s pupils were tiny as he looked at you. His eyes were glossy but almost lifeless. Not as vibrant as they were in the bathroom. “Why?” Patrick asked softly and reached for your shoulder.

You flinch and step back but that doesn’t stop him from grabbing your bag and slinging it over his shoulders, a tactic to keep your attention. The two of you were silent. “About earlier.” He started but your glare cuts him off. “What about it?” You ask with harshness, his eyes shine playfully watching your lips form your words, he liked this feisty burst.

“It wasn’t anything serious, I was just messing around.” He chuckled, but it wasn’t the same as his normal chuckles. Something was off about Patrick. “Messing around? I have a fucking bruise in the form of your fist on my cheek and I have bruises on my back and marks from your boot on my stomach.” You pointed out angrily. “That’s just messing around to you?”

Snatching your bag from him with a push from your hand, you go to your car door but were stopped by him. He turns you around and it was quick, the frantic look in his eye but you ignore him, trying to block him out. “I’m not gonna apologize because it was funny-“

“Funny?!” You nearly scream with an incredulous edge. “Beating me up is funny to you? You wanna know what's really, funny? How long this relationship lasted.” You were gonna get into your car but Patrick pulled you from the door his grip on your arm was tight and bruising. No different from his touches in the bathroom.

He sighs and wipes his face harshly, his mind was rewiring and frying and burning up. He was losing his cool, his edge. “I didn’t take my meds. I’ve been off of them for a week now.” He rushes out and reached in his pocket. He showed you a pill bottle that was mostly full, you read on the label that he needed to take two daily. “They’re supposed to keep me leveled or some shit. Make me tolerable but I haven’t been taking them.”

You cross your arms. “After what happened, I popped a few. It was, funny watching you get scared of me and all. But,” he pauses, his pupils dilating like his mind was somewhere else. Patrick is frozen in place and you're growing uncomfortable watching him like this like the drugs were just now kicking in.

“But what?” You growl at him, not wanting to let your guard slip. Patrick meets your eyes, his own so light and glossy. “I don’t want to see you afraid of me. It’s not, it doesn’t feel right.” He speaks and touches your face with tenderness.

Slightly he shakes his head, getting lost in your dark pools of brown. “What am I saying,” he asks himself. “For something not real you seem too realistic.”

Your eyes widen and you step back from his hold. Patrick looks at you with confused eyes, like it was you who had said something outrageous. For once he looked somewhat normal, somewhat human, as he looked at you. But time was ticking and his pupils were widening back to normal size. “Can we just forget what happened?” He asks and clutches your hands.

You nod and pull your hair back, you could let this go. Today had been stressful, and now your thoughts were cycling back to that clown. You weren't afraid of clowns but you knew it wasn't the time of year for clowns so you were now left unsettled. “You really are crazy aren’t you?” You ask him as he rounds your car and gets in. You get in as well and start the engine, you look at him watching his features tighten. He looks at you with wild eyes when he says, “I’m not crazy, I’m your superior.” He grins at you and leans over to kiss your lips. 

—Although, under major circumstances, you would’ve pushed him off and left him in the dust. But this was Patrick, and well Patrick was... unpredictable.

***

Patrick touches your stomach slowly in small circular motions as he slept, cold fingertips underneath your shirt caressing the little stretch marks; evidence of your slight weight gain and growth spurt as a child. For a boy as cold as him, he often cuddled you a lot and for good reason. His mom says that his body being so cold keeps him up at night, this had been one of few nights he's actually slept.

So here you are, in the dark abyss of Patrick’s basement-room wide awake. Just moments before you were sound asleep and comfortable within his tight grasp as he slept. Your mind went to what could’ve possibly have woken you up? It wasn’t the static of the tv or the loud wind outside. Then you thought of the clown from earlier today, the paleness of its clothes...that singular balloon. You turn for a fraction of a second to ponder, which was enough to wake him up and keep him alert. You pause and look over to him. “Sorry I woke you.” You murmur and move his hair from his face to see him in the faint moonlight. He takes a few breaths before pulling the blankets up to your shoulders then closes his eyes again, nuzzling his face in the crook of his neck.

“I can’t sleep.” You murmur to him quietly. A small smile curls at your lips as Patrick grunts and gets up from the bed reluctantly. “What movie do you want to watch then?” He asks and navigates his way to his tv without turning on his light. “Which ones your favorite?” You ask him.

“Hell Raiser.” He grunts and pops in the VHS tape. He comes back after pressing play and wraps his arms around you, Patrick was grateful for the fact that you were so warm, holding you close to his chest, your arm draped around his waist lazily. “Why’re you up?” He asks as the movie starts. He rests his head on top of yours intimately.

You shrug. “I don’t know.” you lied.

Time lags on as the movie continues. It gets to a steamy part and Patrick begins to chuckle. “You make better orgasm faces.” You felt your cheeks burn. “I bet they’ll be sexier when you’re finally ready.” He whispers and nibbles at your ear lobe, his hand had reached down between your legs underneath your t-shirt and panties. “Patrick.” You say in a warning tone. Holding his wrist still as best you could.

“I’m just telling the truth, Princess.” He chuckles and rubs your arm. “I bet when we do fuck, you’ll be loud. Or whimper and wine like you do when I touch ya.” He chuckles and kisses your cheek.

“Okay.” You groan and get up from his bed. “I gotta pee.” After two steps your falling face-first onto the ground after tripping over what you assumed to be your shoe. “Don’t be too long.” He calls after you.

When you do enter his room again after washing your hands he seems still on the bed. Like he’s sleep again, but you don’t hear the soft baby-like open-mouth snores, you watch from your place in the doorway looking on for a sign. “C’mon you're missing it.” He motions. As you take your steps you realize there’s a small trail. “I moved some stuff out of the way so you don’t trip again.” He speaks, a laugh in his voice.

As you get closer he pulls back his sheets and welcomes you back into his freezing embrace. He snuggles into you and waits for you to wrap your arms around him before he relaxes. You give into him and hold him tight against you. He sighs gently and kisses your neck. It was soft and gentle, leaving you quacking and shivering. Patrick smiles against your chest, comforted by your natural warmth.

“You sleepy yet?” He asks just as you yawn. “Yeah?” You ask him and move so you can rest your head gently on his chest. “Good, close your eyes.” You hum softly against him and close your eyes. “Hey Pat?” you speak softly into the room.

“What?” He asks and rubs your shoulder firmly. Turning and laying on him more intimately you prop your chin on your hand and look at him. He lay there with his eyes closed and his features calm. He looked strikingly like an angel when he wasn’t starring at you like a creep or beating someone up. Maybe if he was more like this, people would genuinely give him the benefit of the doubt. Patrick wasn’t as bad as people really made him out to be after a while. He was really easy to be around, and the boy was wickedly smart.

Soon Patrick opens his eyes and looks down at you, his eyes somewhat glossy as he stares. He takes his time as he turns you two over and makes himself comfortable on top of you. “What?” He asks again as you only stare at him. He scoffs and lays his head on your chest.

You run your fingers through his hair and close your eyes, Patrick shivered feeling your short nails scrape against his scalp. He hums and fixes his face comfortably on your chest. Once you hear his soft snores a small smile touches your lips. Who could’ve thought that you actually liked the boy?


	4. Chapter 4

When you woke up, Patrick was looking down at you. “What?” You ask him yawning. His pupils dilate slightly. His fingers touch lightly on the bruise that was swollen on your cheek. “What does your father think of me?” He asks as he gets up. The question shocked you for a moment as you watched him move around his room.

Shrugging you turn over and check the clock. “I don’t know. He stopped paying attention to my friends and me after my mom split and then died.” Pushing back the blankets you pull on his sweatpants. Patrick watched you, admired how comfortable you were becoming around him. “Here.” He mutters and hands you a crumpled up a piece of paper.

“What’s this?” You ask him and take it. He ignores you and goes to his bathroom. Closing the door behind him you sit down on his couch and uncrumple the page. It was littered in ugly doodles and sloppy but legible handwriting. Reading through the mistakes and poor grammar you got this:

-Like I told you in the parking lot. I'm not very good at apologizing mostly because I'm not very sorry. But I guess I can say thank you for not breaking up with me. Even though I don't take my meds every day. You're one of a kind, I'm glad I made you the way I did.-

You smiled at his attempt at an apology. Gently you flattened it and folded it up. “Thanks.” You smiled as he came to sit beside you. “Yeah.” He nods and lights a cigarette. You watch closely as he brought it to his lips and inhaled.

“Why do you smoke those?” You ask him, Patrick shrugs. He looks around his room and chuckles. “What?”

“I’m bored.” He grins. “So you laugh?” Your eyebrow raised slightly, the corner of your mouth quirks upward every so slightly. 

Patrick nods and sets his gaze on you. “I could always just fuck you instead.” He spoke nonchalantly, your cheeks turn pink and arousal shoots through your body, boiling at your sex. “I’m good.” came your dead reply, Patrick chuckles. “Don’t tell me your afraid of my dick.”

You shake your head. “I don’t want to get pregnant.” You shrug. Patrick exhales and looks at you with furrowed brows. “You won’t get pregnant.”

Giving him a look you raise a brow at him. “Do you plan on marrying me?” Patrick laughs hysterically. “What the fuck, No.” You roll your eyes at him and get up. “Called it.”

It was silent instantly as you put on your shoes. “Oh come one your not mad are you?” You turn around and look at him. “No, not at all. I gotta go though. It’s almost ten and I’m watching my brother.”

Patrick nods and watches you grab your things as you moved around his room. Once all your stuff was together you were going to say bye but the sound of footsteps came down the rickety wooden steps and the other boys that make up the Bowers gang come piling in.

“Hey bitches.” Henry speaks and plops on the couch, he was in an unusually good mood. The smell of stale beer and marijuana wafted off of him and the other two heavily. You wave at them and welcome Victor into your arms as he walks to you and hugs you. “Hi Y/n.” Belch smiles with laziness and you wave at him.

“Well, I gotta go.” You murmur and walk past Patrick and Henry on the couch. “Where you off too?” Henry speaks and moves his body so he’s hanging off the couch. “I thought we could catch a free porno.” He begins to laugh and Patrick joins him.

You were going to ignore it and go up the steps until Patrick spoke. “She’s a complete prude, go call Mercy.” You turn and give him a look as he inhales from his cigarette. One foot on the first step, the outline of your curvy body on the display, you used your left hand to hold the waist-band of Patrick’s sweat pants, you lean on your right hand-while against the banister.

The boys all chuckle as Vic starts typing, suddenly engrossed in his cellphone. “Should we bring Greta too? Heard she’s great at sucking two at the same time.” You stopped at the next few steps gripped the railing. Maybe they were joking, but maybe they weren’t. Biting your tongue and letting your ego get stroked you dropped your bag and walked back to the couch.

“I’m a prude.” You started to your self before snatching Patrick’s cigarette, taking a drag, and straddling his lap. “Then I’m the biggest fucking prude you’ve ever dated.” You murmur and cup his cheeks, placing the cigarette in the ashtray.

You press your lips to Patrick’s mouth and rub your self against him as you kiss him. Your fingers tease the hair at the nape of his neck while your other hand submerges themselves in his dark locks. Patrick grabs your ass and squeezes tightly. He moved his mouth to attack your neck but you bite at his jaw and move down to his neck.

Like him, you take your time and litter his neck in hickeys of your own. The biggest difference between you and Patrick however, was the fact that you were gentle, very gentle. Your lips are soft and kind against his skin, gracing over the sensitive areas of his neck. You had paid close attention to Patrick during your most intimate moments. Patrick tries to restrain himself from moaning out loud so he stands and rushes the both of you to his bathroom.

He pulls back and looks at you. “Did I strike a nerve?” He asks with a smirk. Ignoring his smugness you pull him back to you and rack your nails down his back as your lips meet him, he did in fact, struck a nerve. As well as igniting your want for him. Patrick was beautiful, and when he let himself succumb to the sweetness of your minor affections it made you want to let go and be comfortable with him; it made you want to be with him, fully.

Patrick pulls away and pulls off your shirt before he presses his body against yours and attacks your neck. He licks and bites and he teases your breast over your bra.

“I should tease you more often.” He groans and reaches his hand into your pants and rubs you, more arousal shoots through your body, pooling at your core and in your panties. A soft whimper leaves your lips and he rubs harder. Pulling him closer you kiss his lips and bite his bottom lip. When you pull back you brace yourself before saying what we’re going to say. “Let me blow you.”

Patrick’s lips pull back into a chilling grin as he steps back and loosens his pants. “Okay with me.” He grins wider and palms himself. “You’re not gonna stop me?” You ask him and raise an eyebrow.

“Nope, you wanna blow me, go for it.” He shrugs and palms himself a bit harder. “And if I’m not good like Greta?” It was an off-handed remark or a cruel joke- you had convinced yourself it was within the moment.

“Practice makes perfect princess.” You scoff and stand on your feet, you lower yourself to your knees and sigh. “Can’t believe I’m doing this.” You murmur. Patrick touches your head and lifts your chin. “Relax, I’m not gonna face fuck you yet. I’ll let you do all the work.”

“Okay,” you say with a nervousness that gives him sinful chills, and you sit back on your feet. “Can you at least sit down? Your pretty fucking tall.” Patrick laughs and sits on the toilet top. You scoot forward and pull down his pants and watch as his dick spring to life outside the confines of his pants and briefs. Your eyes widening at how strikingly large he was.

Patrick tugs at his member as he watched your expression, getting off to the sight of your surprise and open mouth. Multiple scenarios of what your mouth would feel like flew through his mind.

“You like it?” He asks you and pinches your cheek softly. You grumble to yourself, mentally beating yourself up for not just walking away. “I’m not doing this for you.” You point at him.

“Then why do it?” He asks. “I got an ego to protect.”

***

You rinse again as Patrick stands behind you, kissing at your neck while incomplete 'awh' and enthrallment, he didn’t want to let you go; His body was pressed against you tightly, hands in your pants touching at the sensitive spots of skin. Picking up the extra toothbrush you brush your tongue again and take the mouth wash rinsing for the fifth time. “Stop worring.” He chuckles and rubs his still hard dick against your ass. “Unlike Mercy and every other girl at that table,” your spit and check your teeth. “I don’t want my breath smelling like, dick.”

Patrick turns you around and kisses your lips intensely. “You gonna come over tonight?” He asks with a smirk. “Why so I can finish you off?”

“No, so I can return the favor.” He grins and pulls you close. “Eh, I don’t know. Simon likes his bedtime stories.”

Patrick shrugs and hands you your shirt. “By the way,” He smirks and bites your cheek once your shirt is on. “You’re better than Greta, at giving head.” Your eyes widen and you shove him back.

“Greta actually, gave you head?” You ask and cross your arms. You wait for him to respond and he starts laughing. “You didn’t know? She gave me head two weeks ago.” Your face turns hot and you storm out the bathroom. The boys look at you with shocked eyes.

Henry stands and walks to you, you could see it in his face he was still very much intoxicated. “Can I please be next.” You shove him out the way and grab your bag from the bottom of the stairs before pointing the finger at the rest of them. “Did you all know Greta sucked him off?” Henry raises his hand, he hadn’t gotten up from the slack position on the floor. “She let me fuck her ass when she did it.”

Scrunching up your face you shake your head. “That’s fucking disgusting.” You scold. You storm up the steps, forcing the door open and walking past Patrick’s parents as they turn to hand you a plate of breakfast. “Morning sweetheart.” Patrick’s dad starts with a cheery smile. You paused and look into the corridor of the kitchen.

“Do you know that your son hangs out with a bunch of psychopaths and that he too is a fucking ring leader of sorts?” You ask them. The two of them pale and freeze up. “Did he do something to you?” His mother asks.

You shake your head and bite your tongue, you never did admit to any kind of truth. If nothing is revealed, everything can be denied. “No. Just something I observed in the past forty-five minutes.” You march to the front door swinging your keys around your fingers as his parents follow after you. “Y/n?” You turn around after wrenching open the front door.

“Please don’t leave him, I know that's asking a lot but he’s different now. Since you’ve been around he doesn’t get into as much trouble as he used to.” His father pleads, his mother had tears welling in her eyes. You chuckle and clutch your keys tightly. “If I wasn’t living in reality I would’ve put a silver bullet in him and called him a werewolf.”

***

“Bubby what’s the matter?” Simon asks as he plays in your hair. You were furiously scribbling over your sketch pad as he was watching Tom and Jerry. “Nothing baby, I’m fine.” He nods his chubby cheeks pulling back into a precious smile.

“Okay.” He speaks with a chirp. He moves around and plays with his toys as he hums to the episode. “Bubby? Are you makin' Mac n cheese for lunch.” You look up to see him playing ‘Trucks’ as he would correct. “Yeah, you want bacon in it like last time?”

He nods and claps as you smile at him. “Hey bubby.” You speak and he lays beside you as you smooth your finger over the scribbled drawing. “Yes baby?” You respond absent-mindedly. Simon looks over at the drawing.

“Is that Patty?” He asks and points. You look at your picture, like really look at it and sure enough, those cold grey-green eyes haunt through the pencil scribbles. You set the sketchbook down and look at the clock. “Ready to make some Mac n cheese?” You ask him and stand up.

“Ou yes! And bacon! The yummy bacon.” He cheers and follows you closely. His short legs move quickly as his tiny feet patter against the floor.

You place the pot on the stove and let it boil, then lift Simon up so he can place the bacon in the microwave. “Which button do you press?” You ask him. “De-frost!” You kiss his chubby cheeks and then set him down after he presses the button.

“I’m going to go watch Tommy and Jerry okay!” He speaks and runs to the living room. You turn the burner on low and pour the noodles in the water. “Bubby!” Simon comes running back into the kitchen.

“Hmm?” You ask and turn around. “Grr is here.” You bite your tongue and turn off the stove for good measure and goto the front door, Simon follows but gets distracted with a new toy commercial and he sings along to the jingle.

You look through the window by the front door before you pull back the door and there stop Greta chewing gum and quietly loudly at that.

“The fuck do You want?” You ask, remembering what Patrick had told you earlier. She smirks and pushes her way into your house but you snatch her back and shove her out the front door. You bring the door closer to your body, shutting her out from the safety of your home. A familiar blue Trans Am was spotted turning down the corner so you had to make this quick. “You and that entire group of bitches can all go to hell.” You snap at her and pull the door up even more.

She dusts her shoulders and gives you a confused look. “What the fuck are you talking about?” Greta snaps at you. The boys, from a fair distance, watch the altercation. “What am I talking about?” You repeat her.

“I’m talking about you and your fucking sexcapades and the recent one that involves my fucking boy- that involved Patrick!” You yell at her. Her cheeks burn and she crosses her arms and steps back. “To be completely honest I didn’t know at the time.”

You roll your eyes and shake your head. “Sure you didn’t, just like how the whole town didn’t know you blew him.” Her eyes widen and she raises her hands as she walks toward you. “Look I’m sorry for the times me and-“

“Times?” Your voice got soft. You could see from that safe distance that the boys were holding back Patrick as you held yourself. “It was more than once? Did you fuck him too?” You asked. She looks down and steps forward.

“Look, girl, it meant nothing okay. It just-“ you cut her off by turning around and entering your house. “Oh come on Y/n I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.” You pivot on your heel and glare. “You are the biggest fucking hypocrite I know.” You slam the door and lock it before storming to the kitchen. You toss the noddles and water, then stand over the sink forcing back the anger.

“Bubby?” Simon speaks and tugs your sweatpants. “Yeah?” You wipe your face and face him. “Want to go out and get cheeseburgers from Sals?”

You smile at Simon and squat down to his height and kiss his cheeks. You then pull him to you, hugging him tightly. “I love you kiddo.” You pick him up and he grins. “Love you too kiddo.” He repeats.

Grabbing your keys you shut off the tv and walk out the side door, locking it and then you make your way to your car. You place Simon in the back, strap him in, and then make your way to the driver's side. On your front lawn, Greta is talking furiously to Henry while Belch was found sitting on Patrick and Vic was on the car roof.

When the two see you they rush to your car just as you start it. “Bubby, your friends coming?” Simon asks as he plays with his dinosaur, looking as best he could out the window as you reverse down the driveway and speed off. “No, it’s just us.” 

***

You wipe the ketchup from Simon's cheeks as he messily eats at his fries and kiddie burger. You sneak a fry from his plate and he erupts in a fit of giggles and annoyance. “Hey, that was mine!” You chuckle and he reaches for your plate taking a fry from you.

“Haha, we're even now.” He chuckles. You two had been sitting in Sals for only ten or twenty minutes. Eating and talking about his favorite cartoons.

You bite into your sandwich just as Patrick is walking through the doors. He looked rough with little scrapes on his arms and face. He walks to you and Simon. “Hi patty.” Simon waves and eats his kiddie burger. Patrick sits beside you and nods at Simon.

Simon waits patiently for him to say ‘Hi’ properly and so do you. “What was that with Greta?” He asks, his voice is cold and sly. “You didn’t say 'Hi’ to Simon the right way.” Patrick sits back and waves at Simon with a brief smile, who happily accepts and starts making dinosaur noises swinging around his toy dino in the air.

“Well?” He asks turning his attention to you. “Look, Patrick, I don’t know what this is, but it isn’t a relationship.” You speak lowly so Simon won’t pay attention. Patrick catches on and lowers his voice. “What’re you talking about? She blew me so what. You, blew me so what?” You roll your eyes and scoff.

Patrick pulls out a cigarette but you snatch it and toss it. “Don’t smoke around him, he’s an asthmatic.” You mumble. Patrick picks at your fries instead, trying to curve the sudden craving as his stress inclined.

“She admitted to you two fucking too.” You speak and look around. People were watching you two for quite a bit. “Maybe I did, I don’t remember.” He shrugs and stuffs another fry into his mouth.

In his mind, Patrick wasn’t understanding the sudden defiance, and he wasn’t liking the fact that another threat may have surfaced in the form of the little boy beside you. Your attention constantly going to him from time to time.

You roll your eyes and huff crossing your arms. “Patrick I can’t be your girlfriend anymore.” Pat gives you a look, his expression becoming blank. You scoot closer to Simon who was now making a mess of himself with his food and the ketchup. Patrick’s grey-green eyes become hollow as he keeps his eyes on you, they weren’t glossy like when he doesn’t take his meds, they were empty like when he’s about to beat someone up. That someone now being you.

“Why not?” He seethes deeply and grips your leg under the table, a sign of his crazed-domination. You lean into his face and seethe back. “Get your fucking hands off of me.” Your voice was so harsh that a cold shiver went up his spine.

It was a great contrast to the gentleness in your voice when you spoke to him earlier, no matter how mad you currently were.

Nonetheless, his facade wasn’t broken, Patrick squeezes harder and you hold back a scream as your eyes water. “You’re mine Y/n.” He growls in your ear. “I made you, I keep you.” You try pulling away but his nails dig deeper as he pulls at you. “You. Belong. To me.” He growls. 

He’s really lost his mind huh? You thought to yourself as you watch him. His cold grey-green eyes were almost lifeless with there cloudiness and glossiness. Patrick stared on, his mind blank of anything else except getting your submission back.

“Is everything okay?” Sue, your waitress asks as she walks by. Patrick scratches your legs and you nod with a tightness. “We’re fine.” She nods and wipes Simon's cheeks for you as she walks away. Her eyes find yours and she asks you again with her eyes, you had no choice but to lie and nod your head. With hesitation, she begins to walk away. 

You pinch Patrick under the table and yank away your leg as he sits closer and wraps his hand in your hair. “I’m not going to continue to be your girlfriend.” You repeat, your voice nearly breathless due to the pain in your leg.

“All because you’re not the only one who sucked my dick? Y/n don’t be ridiculous-“ You cut him off with a glare and snappish tone. “No, it’s because you allowed the fuckery while we were together.” You push him off and smack him with a thunder, catching Simon's attention. He was startled and his eyes begin to water.

You turn to him and crumble. “I’m sorry I scared you baby.” Simon hiccups as he tries not to cry, fighting the tears as best he could; Amanda’s nasty nasally voice in his head “Grow up and be a man, no one wants to hear you whine and cry!”; You motion for him to scoot out and you follow after. Leaving two twenties on the table then pick him up. “I’m sorry baby.” You tell him and rub his back.

You walk out into the parking lot briskly, knowing Patrick is behind you as the blue Trans Am in a parking space a few spaces away from your chevy. The boys were watching as you quickly put Simon in your car and locked the door.

Patrick storms to you but you stop him. “You will not harm me in front of him.” You spoke with strained control. You were scared of him, considering you just smacked him in front of people. Patrick grips your neck and pulls you flush against him. “You need to get over yourself. I messed around with Greta, it happened.” You shove him.

“You’re not getting it. I wouldn’t fucking care if you banged my whore of a stepmom! The fact that you let her give you oral while you were supposed to be mine is what’s pissing me off!” You screamed at him, the veins in your neck stressing against your skin as your face turned pink. 

For the first time, Patrick was rendered speechless at your choice of words. You called him ‘yours’ and that sent a wave of excitement through his body and to his friend downstairs.

Patrick was going to say something but you stopped him. “Just leave me alone Patrick.” You muttered and pulled your hair back. You got in your car, started it, and pulled off.

Beside you, Simon was holding his dinosaur and rocking back and forth. Your heart churned for him you slowed down and ran your fingers over his head. “Are you okay?” You ask him. He nods and rocks himself. You remember something your mom told you about Simon. His mother, Amanda, barely bonded with him when he was a small baby.

She often left him abandoned to be by himself, she never spent the time to entertain him, and often than not... the vile woman hit the babe and blamed others for her actions. Simon grew up and now he’s a constant ball of nerves.

“Bubby?” He speaks and looks down. You look at him then realize what he was looking at. You had blood seeping through the sweatpants. Simon begins to cry. “Don’t cry baby, don’t cry.” You coo. “I’m okay.”

***

Later that night, when everyone was asleep you were lounging in the bathtub full of bubbles. You lift your leg and examine the deep scratches Patrick had left you.

You began to wonder, what the fuck was wrong with you? Your thoughts ran rampant to your choice of words in the parking lot. Why would you say that to him? It was bizarre and nothing like you at all.

Sinking a bit underneath the hot bath water you had to admit to yourself that he was rubbing off on you. Why else would you have said he was supposed to be yours? Nothing of the sort has crossed your mind before when you were with other people... Then again those relationships never last as long as this one with Patrick.

And you’ve never broken up with someone seemingly twice, parting once than going back only to part again. That wasn’t your thing. When you were done, you were done.

The mere thought of Patrick made you question yourself. You shake your head, “I’m done.” You murmur to yourself running your fingers over the raised irritated skin.

After another hour passes, you stand, drain the tub, and shower off the excess dirt and blood from the day. You wash your body twice more and get out. Finishing up your hygiene and body-care routine, you dress for bed and leave the bathroom a steamy mess of flowers and apples as you dry your hair going to your room. “Bubby?” You hear the soft voice as the floorboards creak and Simon walks to you in the dimly lit hallway.

You wait for him to hold your shorts pant-leg and continue walking to your room with him in tow. Inside your room, he rushes to your bed and gets comfortable while you pull your hair up and place a bonnet over your head.

“Goodnight Bubby.” Simon whispers and falls asleep. “Night baby. Sweet dreams.” You tell him and kiss his forehead. You lay down and cover him with your blankets.

Tucking him in a few times for good measure, even styling your assortments of pillows around him so he would be comfortable while he slept.

Sleep didn’t come easily to you like it has been so many times before. Instead, your mind was racing with thoughts of Patrick and how cruel he’s become, you missed the gentle moments the times when he was asleep and he looked like an angel.

You didn’t view yourself in the wrong for being upset, but you did feel bad... scratch that, you didn’t feel bad at all for your actions. You felt bad for him, and his cruel intentions. How could he ask you to be his girlfriend and not realize that this was an A, B thing?

You turn to your side and move some of Simon's hair from his cheeks. You felt bad for him mostly, he had witnessed Patrick harming you and that, really affected him. He had barely touched his chicken nuggets at dinner and wouldn’t look anyone in the eye. You felt deeply for the little guy. Kissing his chubby cheek you get up and tuck him tightly in your bed once again.

Your feet pattered softly against the carpet and had more of a thud on the hardwood. Making your way down the steps you head to the living room and flip on the tv. You watched the news channel cover the current news in Derry. At one story you turned up the volume and paid closer attention.

~“This just in, another child had gone missing. Candice Richardson has been missing for three weeks now, Parents set curfews for children- and always know their whereabouts. Derry will be issuing a town curfew in just a few short days."~

The news reporter went on, showing a picture of the girl in the corner of the screen while he went on about other children who had gone missing—more pictures accompanying their young ages. You were so well invested in the story that you didn’t hear the footsteps until you felt someone touch your arm.

Jumping and covering your mouth from screaming you looked up at your dad. “Oh, ...hey.” You gasp out, your voice losing its exciting edge. You look back to the tv. “Hey.” Your dad spoke and sat beside you. “Can’t sleep?”

You nod your head and leaned into your hand, your elbow now rested on the armrest of the couch. It was silent between you two for quite a moment until your dad broke it. “Your mom says your dating now.”

“That woman isn’t my mother.” You grumble and scoot away from him. Your father sighs and nods. “You’re right, I’m sorry.” You roll your eyes, he tried his hardest to integrate your vocabulary by associating Amanda with the word mother but another woman had that association and she would be the only woman in your life with that title. Amanda didn’t deserve to be called a mother. She wasn’t fit to be one.

The both of you are silent again, time ticks on, the News continues. Almost nearing the break of dawn before either of you spoke. So you went first. “Why her?”

Your dad looked at you with a sorrowful look, you didn’t have to meet his eyes to know he was giving you the same look he gave when your mother passed. “She’s fucking disgusting. She barely pays attention to Simon unless you and I are around. She doesn’t fucking respect me.” Your hand flails upward as you speak and then you face him, tears bubbled in your eyes, your cheeks were a swollen red. 

“Dad you barely talk to me, all your attention goes to her. It’s like I died along with my mom! The only time I’m worthy of your presence is when something comes up that she doesn’t like.” You didn’t want to leave the conversation on that note, not even hearing what he had to say but that’s what happened. You got up and went back to bed.


	5. "She was his Favorite creation"

When Monday came you walked through the hallways with your head cast down and your shoulders squared. You avoided all possible entrances that lead in the direction of Patrick. What did that mean? It meant that your locker was now, completely empty and bare, you kept everything with you.

In classes you had with him you sat as far away as possible if you could sit farther- farther away from his lingering gaze you absolutely would.

You stopped hanging around Greta and the rest of ‘The Bitches’ as they have begun to call themselves.

By lunch you were tired; carrying about an extra two pounds of school crap, and your extracurricular could put a strain on someone. Entering the cafeteria you received a few stares that lingered but one stare began to bug you. It was distinctive and chilling. You didn't have to look up to see who was staring at you. You willed yourself not to look, it wasn't necessary.

But there was such thing as too much and it was bugging you that he was watching you with ferocity. Finally sucking it up and meeting his gaze, you spot Patrick with his arms around a brunette. His hands touching her in lewd ways but his eyes stayed on yours, smiling at you playfully. This was, clearly, all a sick fucking joke to him. That thought alone made you shiver. You took a second more, staring at the pair before flipping him off and leaving behind the tray you had picked up. Your new destination was the Office to sign yourself out and just go home. Do things the right way instead of playing hooky.

You shove open the cafeteria doors and quicken your pace once you hear heavy boots, clicking shoes, and sneakers following quickly.

It sounded as if a crowd was following after you and it was putting you on edge, your heart was racing and blood was pumping through your ears exceptionally fast.

“Patrick!” An overtly feminine voice that sounds forced to be high shrieked from behind you. You roll your eyes, of course, he would follow you. When you turn a corner you bump into a chubby kid. You fall flat on your ass, your hair falling in your face. He stares at you, on his ass with red chubby cheeks. “I’m sorry.” He sputters out and starts to collect things into piles. He was horrified, he had just run into Patrick's girl.

You follow his lead. “I’m sorry, I should’ve been paying attention.” You apologized hastily and handed him his books. “No, it was my fault I was in the way.” He tried, the kid knew who you were, recognized who you hung out with on occasion.

The footsteps behind you began to quicken. “No no, it was my fault. I like rammed into you.” You meet his baby-like eyes and shove your hair out of your face, your heart was racing and your entire nervous system was kicking into overdrive to hurry you along and you get out of this hold-up. “You know a quick way out of here?”

The boy heard the unmistakable footsteps and the intense urgency in your voice. Your eyes plead with him and his smile back at you.

“Yeah, go by the boy's bathroom to the left and there’s a stairwell no one ever notices. If you go now Patrick won’t see you.” Smiling at the boy you suddenly remember his name. “Thanks a bunch, Ben.”

He blushes at your dashing smile, your name rolled around in his mind multiple times as he put his things away then caught a glimpse of you as you got up. His good wishes and goodbye was too quiet to hear as you moved on.

You get to your feet and booked it for that stairwell. Once you see the opening you dip into it and close the door, sinking to the bottom and listen for the heavy group of footsteps to go by. But they don’t, they stop right near you, an argument taking place.

“What the fuck do you want Melany?” Patrick yells at her, his voice chilling you. A knot forming in your stomach, you could throw up from the sudden onslaught of anxiety. “I just want to know why your following after her, she dumped you.”

Patrick laughs, almost as if he was about to pop her like a pimple. You scoot up and peek through the opening. Victor steps between the two and Belch holds him back. Patrick struggles, causing them to hit the wall beside the door. You jump back down and avoid getting caught. Patrick was going to rip Melany a new one for her stupid comment. So what if Y/n had dumped me? He thought to himself, Y/n would always be his. She was his favorite creation... and damned if he would, actually, say this but, there was something about her. He couldn’t let that go.

“Patrick chill the fuck out!” Henry yells, you can see him over the opening but he can’t see you. You press yourself up against the door harder, hoping they won’t see you. “It’s your fault.” Henry pokes.

“You don’t know shit!” Patrick yells back and struggles some more, the urgency in his voice wasn’t missed by you. “I do know something. I know, hell I could tell you hurt her real bad when you told her about Greta.”

Patrick scoffs and finally gets Belch off of him. They move from the door. You can hear hurried clicking, assuming the best you figured it was Melany running off. “You can’t just expect that things will go your way,” Victor chimes in. “Yeah we all know you have some fucked up way of thinking, but you can’t do fucked up shit like that.”

You peek again, this time making direct eye contact with Victor. He hesitates for a bit too long and Patrick notices. He whips around and grins at you.

Taking the head start you have, considering Belch jumped back in his way, you dash down the steps. It was long when you reached halfway into the second staircase that you heard Patrick’s heavy boots and the boys behind him calling after him.

It was Belch that told you to run faster, causing a loud pounding noise. When you look up the stairwell you see Patrick punching his way into Belch’s face. But you don’t stop to help him, Victor was waving you off. It was Henry’s gaze that chilled you more than you were already chilled. His face was shrouded in a shadow. “Y/n leave!” he and Victor yelled so you left. You pushed open the emergency exit door that looked busted and took off.

“Your school called.” Your father spoke as you worked on the homework you had. He stood in your doorway for an extra moment, then entered when you didn’t answer him. “Get out of my room.” You speak with annoyance. You didn’t give him the decency to raise your head and acknowledge him.

“Young lady,” he stared with a warning tone but you ignored it. You pushed back your swivel chair and met his hard look with a glare of your own. You repeat yourself, your voice hard and dismissive, “Get out of my room.”

The two of you stood and sat in silence. Your father not moving, your attitude not letting up. “Why did your school call?” He was baiting you.

“Is that even a question? Do you not realize the time? I cut class, I’m here aren’t I?” You point out with an incredulous tone. Your father crosses his arms and tries the strict parent act. “Now will you please, get out of my room.” You point to the door.

“Look, just because you get to set some ground rules like me and your mother-“

“She’s not my fucking mother!”

“Watch your tone young lady!” He yells at you. You stand up. “Then stop calling that bitch my fucking mother! She didn’t birth me! She doesn’t raise me! Hell, she barely raises Simon and you know it.” You scream at him.

You move to grab your coat and head for your door but your father grabs your arm, right over the forming bruise that Patrick left you. A sharp scream threatens to leave but you don’t let it. Instead, you whip around and push your father off of you. Heavy breathing is the only thing you both share in common before he speaks. “You’re grounded.”

“Oh sure, that’s fine. What’s the penalty, I can’t hang out with my friends? News flash Parker I don’t have any! Wanna take away my phone?! Go for it I smashed it weeks ago. Wanna take my keys?! Tough fucking titty I bought that car, not you.” Slinging on your jacket you rush down the stairs going to the closet and grabbing your stashed bag.

You wouldn’t say you’ve been waiting for this to happen, but in truth, it was bound to happen. When you close the closet door Amanda is standing in front of the front door and your father is coming down the stairs. “If you step foot outside that door you aren’t welcomed back here.” Your father spoke. You didn’t hesitate and headed for the back door.

“My fucking pleasure, you never wanted me since the day mom passed. So let me do ya a favor and find a place, I’ll come back for the rest of my shit that mom bought me later.”

As you left your father looked on with saddened eyes, his heart was racing and his hands shook. He didn’t know what went wrong. Or what caused his little girl to walk out of his life, the same way your mother did. In a fit of fury. It was hurting him, it was breaking his heart. Had he, really abandoned you as you claimed?

Once in your car, you see Simon rush off the bus to your car. Amanda went to go greet him but he went straight for you, banging on the door with excitement. “Bubby!” He yelled through. You open your door and he reaches for you. “Oh! Bubby I had a good day today.” He speaks and climbs in your lap.

You hug the boy and kiss his chubby cheeks. Before he could get another word in he looked in your eyes. “Bubby what’s wrong?” He asks and cups your cheeks.

“Nothing, I’m just gonna go away for a while.” You tell him. His cheeks go red and his eyes become sad. When your father walks out Simon jumps from your lap and runs to your dad. “Pa Bubby is leaving?” He asks near tears.

Your dad hesitates before picking up Simon. You wait for his response but when it doesn’t come you close your door and start your car. Just as your about to pull out the driveway Simon comes running back. You slam on the brakes and roll down your window. “Don’t.” You point to him. “That’s dangerous.”

“Bubby don’t leave me.” He begs, tears streaming down his face. You could see him shake from your seat in your car. Amanda comes walking and grabs his hand. “She doesn’t want to stay so she’s leaving.” Her voice always made you angry, it just sounds like a nasty snarl in your ears no matter what she said.

Simon cries harder. Your heart yearns for the little boy. You love the kid. “Bubby you promised me.” He yells to you. You rest your head on your steering wheel, listening, to him cry his little heart out as he’s being brought into the house.

It must’ve been about five minutes before you finally got yourself together. But you didn’t leave, the passenger door was opened and your father sat inside. “I’m sorry.” He apologizes.

“No, you aren’t.”

“I am Y/n, you're my only daughter.” He points out. “I haven’t been there for you, and here I am trying to be stern and then I kick you out.” He speaks softly. It’s silent between you two except the song playing softly in the background. Your dad faces you and sighs. “Can we start over?”

You sit back and wipe your tears away, you refused to let him see you like this, he wouldn’t see you weak ever again. “Yeah,” you pause and sniffle. “Sure.”

“Your school called, how are things?” This time, his voice was gentle.

“Things are weird.” You spoke and put your car in park. “I skipped the rest of the day, that’s why they called.” You told and glanced his way.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks and holds his hands. “No. Nothing much to talk about.” You shrug.

Your dad nods before he looks around. “I’m sorry I’ve been neglecting you.”

You finally look at him, meeting his sad brown eyes. “I haven’t been the best of fathers.” You nod and then look away. “Simon,”

“He’s really upset. I know.”

“What did you promise him?” He asks and closes the car door. “I promised that I wouldn’t leave him, I told him that I would always be there for him no matter what.” You wipe a stray tear. “I feel like shit for breaking the promise.”

Your dad lets out a soft chuckle. “You don’t have to break the promise.” You meet his fatherly gaze. “So you're saying you're not kicking me out?”

He nods. “I already lost your mom, I don’t want to lose you too.” He opens his arms and you lean forward to hug him.

When you get out of the car you leave your bag just in case of any kind of emergency and lock up your car. You enter the house behind your dad and hear Simon’s wails. “I WANT BUBBY!” He screams.

He dashes from his mother's hold when he sees you, his chubby cheeks red and wet from tears. He claws at your legs and squeezes. “Bubby, bubby,” He cries. “Oh bubby don’t leave.” He cries. You squat down and he wraps his arms around your neck, his wet tears damp your skin as he holds you. “I’m sorry baby.” You tell him and pick him up. He’s breathless and coughing and trying to calm down. Soothingly, you rub his back imitating large circles.

He calms and rests his head on your shoulder, now tuckered out from his excessive efforts to crying hard and halt you. You rub his back gently and nod to your father and Amanda and take him upstairs for his nap.


	6. "Hi Princess"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning-sexual assault.

When your alarm had gone off you opted to let it ring for an extra hour, but it also made your head hurt so you reached over and turned it off only to be yanked back into place. A hand covered your mouth and a weight settled over you with overwhelming force. It was hard at first to make out the figure in the four a.m light but it only took a second to recognize the clove smell and the wide grin. Patrick lay above you with menacing eyes. “Hi princess.” He whispers and grips your face tighter.

Your breathing grew heavy at the sight of him, your breath caught at the sigh of the shiny slender object he took from his pocket. He brought it up to your face and pressed it to your skin. “I’ve missed you so so much princess.”

You wanted so badly to yell at him and tell him not to call you that but you couldn’t. “Mhmm we’re gonna have some fun yeah?”

He brought the knife down against your cheek careful not to break the skin. He brought it down your neck and to your nightshirt and ripped the fabric. Your chest was now exposed to him and his glassy eyes became wild. “Well well, who would’ve thought,” he spoke and flicked his thumb over your nipple. “You've gone and got pierced.”

Finally, trusting your silence Patrick removes his hand from over your mouth. He grins and leans close to your face. “What else don’t I know about you?” He asks sinisterly.

“A lot.” You whisper a gentle whisper that made him purr. You try to shuffle into a seating position but he brings his knife up to your chin. “Where are you going huh?” He asks. “Nowhere,” you mumble and put your hand over his. Slowly you bring it down and sit up. You hold the fabric of your shirt closed. Patrick snatches your hands away.

“Suck my cock again.” He asks breathless, an ache in his cock at the memory of your mouth on him. Your eyes widen at his intrusive word choice. “No.”

He brings the knife up again and you harden your stare. “Cut me then, I’m not scared.” You press your face into the slender utensil, letting it cut your cheek. He brings the knife to his lips and licks your blood. “I’m not touching you.” You whisper at his actions.

Patrick shakes his head and sets down his knife, he pulls off his shirt and kicks off his heavy boots. He soon has you pinned to your headboard, his lips pressed to yours harshly. His sucks and bites and licks while he touches your breast. You push him away but he comes back, holding your head and kissing you harder so you bite him. He backs away and grins. “You miss me don’t you.”

“No, I don’t.” You scoff. “I want nothing to do with you.” You tell him and get off your bed. He tackles you to the ground and nudges a leg between your two. “Patrick get off of me.” You whine and struggle. “No.”

Your eyes widened at him. Effectively he squeezes your arms so tightly that you couldn’t recover in time when he pulled your shorts down. “Don’t fight me.” He speaks as he works his pants down past his hips. He’s between you, his dick heavy over your mound. “No,” you gasp as you try and scoot back. “Don’t.” He growls and pulls you close to him. Tears spring to your eyes. “Patrick please.” You breathe and press your hands to his abdomen, trying to restrict him from hurting you.

“I’m going to have you, your min...” He stops as he watches your bedroom door open, he moves his hand to cover your mouth but stills his actions.

“Bubby,” the sleepy voice comes. Patrick grins at you and presses himself to your entrance, feeling him poke his head against you. Your face goes hot as Simon’s tiny feet get to your bed. “What’s up buddy?” You ask. “I can’t sleep.” he wines.

Patrick presses himself a bit further and you feel him enter. Your eyes blur with tears and suddenly you felt weak. You didn’t know how to get out of this situation, and God did you want to get out of this situation.

You couldn’t imagine losing your innocence in a forced predicament. Something pulled in Patrick at seeing your saddened and tear-streaked face. He lifts himself up off of you and lets you shimmy away from him. Simon sits upon your bed, seeing you get up from the floor.

The room was too dark for him to see you, or Patrick for that matter. You change your clothes and glare at Patrick on the floor as he watches you with sinful-lustful eyes, he was stroking himself as he watched you. As you changed you of course were distracted by him. You couldn’t believe he was actually getting off to you. As his breath got shallow and you wiped away your tears he finished. Licking his hand and blowing you a kiss.

Patrick was sick, you kept cementing that terrifying thought into your mind as you watched him fix himself and his clothes. You lay down next to Simon and move his hair from his eyes. He curls against you and gets comfortable.

You feel Patrick behind you on your bed, poking you with his still erect member. An arm goes around your waist, “Next time princess.” He whispers and kisses behind your ear, his tongue licks and he’s moving his risque affections down to your neck.

His hips are rolling against you, humping his hidden erection as his hands sneak around your body, one hand in your shirt and the other between your legs. Patrick moans softly in your ear as his skilled cold fingers toy at your sensitive nub. You wanted to refuse the pleasure, trick your mind into thinking this wasn’t what you wanted but it felt so good. You breathed out with a dreamy sigh, trying to turn away so Simon wouldn’t wake up.

Patrick humps against you harder, tugging your nipples and sticking his fingers inside of you as he has done before. You hated that he knew your body so well, that he was bringing you an orgasm stronger than ever before.

When you did orgasm around his fingers, biting your lip hard to stop the moan you felt him release within his jeans, his lips sucking and kissing your skin as he moans against your sensitive skin. Patrick felt triumphant and making you cum against your will so easily. He felt good knowing he still had a claim on your body even if you didn’t want him too.

You hated that you knew, that he knew you knew, he still had some claim over you. “Your my girl forever okay.”

Breakfast was a tense segment of your morning. You felt probed and violated and worst of all you couldn’t say anything. Not because you were scared but because you didn’t know how to say anything. Patrick was unpredictable and you weren’t sure how skilled he was with that knife.

Your father looks up at you and notices your antsy actions and then clears his throat. “Y/n?” You jump at his voice and lookup. You prayed he wouldn’t be able to read it on your face that something terrible—yet so deliciously sinful—had happened last night.

“Yeah?” You ask and finally cut into your eggs that you’ve been poking. “You okay?” He asks and wipes his mouth. You nod and scoot from the table. “Just,” you breathe heavily and leave the table, “Not that hungry,” leaving your untouched meal.

The walk to your room seemed dreadful, you pulled back the door and looked around thinking he was still there. It was a possibility and that scared you. When the coast seemed clear enough you entered and sat down on the bed. Your hands came up to your face and on cue, the tears started. You shook with silent tears, your face grew hot you felt hot all over.

Patrick watched from the shadows of your closet, taking in how...broken you look. He holds his breath, as he watched you relax and look up trying so hard not to let any more tears fall. Your face was wet and red and had hairs stuck to your face. Your eyes were shiny brown glass orbs. Not keeping to his internal word Patrick came from your closet.

“You're still here.” You gasped and backed up on your bed. He walked to you and stood beside your bed. “I never left.” He spoke carefully and touched your leg, he felt the tremors and removed his hand.

You looked at him and sighed. “You here to finish me off.” You whisper to him as he gets up onto your bed. He wraps his arms around you and shows you compassion, something you thought he wasn’t capable of.

Patrick presses your head to his chest and rubs your back, in his mind, he was drawing blanks as to why he was acting this way. Normally he would’ve laughed but you seemed to hurt.

“Can we,” he paused. “I should apologize for what I did.” You laugh and push him off of you. “You should. Don’t sound so hurt Patrick.” You sniffle and wipe your face. He thought you looked so beautiful, sad.

“Damnit you nearly raped me and I’m terrified, isn’t that what you wanted?” You grab him by his collar and pull him close. “I should fuck you up you crazy asshole.” You smack him and hard, you notice his eyes flare but he doesn’t react. He lets you take your anger out on him, the both of you tumble to the ground with you striking him repeatedly where ever you could land a blow.

It went on for about ten minutes, he had gotten hard again while letting you beat his face till he bled—until you broke down and cried again. Patrick had a bloody nose and a split lip. He looks at you with humanistic kind eyes and lays back. Enjoying the silence between you too, listening to how you hiccup occasionally between your cries. His hands touch your hips gently and he lets out a deep breath, although he was giving you room to be you he guided your hips to give him some friction. “Henry was right.” he breaths.

“About what?” You ask and wipe your face. “You’re not as tough as you seem.” He laughs to himself. “I should’ve known.” You look down at the crazy bastard and laugh with him. A euphoric release comes from laughing. He looks at you, he had a smile on his face as he watched you laugh through your pain. “I’m sorry, princess.” He apologizes and sits up.

Patrick leans against your wall with you on his lap he admires you and touches your wet cheeks. “You apologized.” You murmur. He nods and grins at you. “I did.” He smiles and pulls you closer to him. Your chest was flush against his as he wrapped his arms around you and kissed your forehead getting blood on you.

“Can I try again?” He asks softly and touches your head, playing in your hair, touching the soft tendrils with care, you rest your head on his shoulder. Your face nuzzled in the crook of his neck, your perfume faint on his skin. “What do you mean?” You ask him, finding solace in his strong but small arms.

“I want to try and be your boyfriend again.”

You looked in the mirror and blinked your eyes twice before adding more eye drops. Once you were satisfied with the cleanup and had put away the drops you turn around and look at Patrick. He sits still without any indication on his face on how he’s feeling. “Did you take your meds?” You ask him. He nods and waves you to him. You walk over and stand between his legs. “Do you forgive me?”

“No.” You tell him honestly and walk away from him. He waits respectfully outside your bedroom, trying to piece things together in his own mind, what he was doing, and how it was making him feel.

When you came back you were in a black hoodie and jeans that hugged your curves but looked baggy around your legs. He took in your choice in clothing, you were hiding. “Ready?” You ask him and he nods.

It was the fourth period. You sat two seats away from Patrick, and when you looked over to him he looked heavily concentrated on nothing in particular. When the bell rang he sat there, you stood and walked to his desk. “Are you okay?”

He looked at you and stood. “Fine.” He muttered. He followed you out of the classroom and branched off to meet his friends while you went to your locker. “Hey Y/n,” Jackson smiled at you. Jackson was a normal kid, got good grades, played basketball, and hung out with other boys in his grade.

You’ve noticed Jackson before but never cared to acknowledge him, why would you? The only interesting person here was Patrick.

You nod and close your locker, holding your books to your chest. “This Friday,”

“What about it?” You ask and look off in the direction of Patrick but he wasn’t with the boys. “Well it’s Halloween and I’m throwing a party.” He blushes and steps closer, you step back.

“Okay.” You nod and then look again for Patrick. “I’ll think about it.”

“We’ll be there,” Patrick speaks and pushes Jackson against the locker nearby. Patrick gets real close to his face and frowns at him. “Anything else you wanna tell us?” He asks. You look on casually while Patrick keeps his glare on Jackson.

“I was gonna ask Y/n if she wanted to go with me.”

“She can’t,” Patrick growls and pushes his arm over Jackson’s neck. “Why?” Jackson struggles. “She’s with me,” Patrick let him go and kicks him in his leg. “Now beat it before I beat your face in.”

Jackson scurried off and Patrick looks at you and smiles at you, you return a small smile to him, your hip is poked out to one side. His eyes wander your body. “Hi.” He looks down at you and pulls you to him gently.

Patrick was changing and rapidly when it came to you. He leans down and kisses you softly and leads you to the cafeteria, the sudden sweetness in his kisses made you shiver and when he pulls away, you're under his spell. It was a mental victory for him, he knew he liked this when you were like this. You walk hand in hand and he brings you to the table he sits at with the boys. “Ahh look what the cat dragged in.” Henry glared.

“Shut up Bowers,” Victor spoke and turned his attention to you. “Hey, so are you two are back together?” You roll your eyes and look at Patrick who was holding your hand quiet lightly under the table. That blank look in his eyes as he stared off into nothing. “Are you guys together?” Belch asks.

“Yes,” Patrick snaps at the two. “Now stop asking.” He pulls you closer and wraps his arms around your shoulders like a child laying claim on his toys. “You hungry?” He asks and snatches Victor’s tray. “I’m fine,” you mumble and pull your bag up, you trade your lunch for your books and put them in your bag.

“Right, you made lunch.” He mumbles defeated and shoved the tray back. “Here,” You smile softly at him and hand him half of your sandwich. He takes it with a whipped smile.

“Well, what the fuck is this?” Henry speaks and snatches Patrick’s half from him. “You're eating out of the palm of her hand?”

You roll your eyes and take it back from Henry and hand it to Patrick. “Shut the fuck up Henry.” You both glare at one another. Patrick eats his half of the sandwich and gets up. He goes on the prowl for snacks and something to drink. Henry faces you and glares. “So you’re back.”

“I don’t know, ...why?” You ask and eat your sandwich calmly. “Because Henry is worried Patrick is going to go off the rocks,” Victor spoke and bit into his pizza. You look at Henry and raise a brow. “Off the rocks? Like doing overboard things?”

“Yeah, something like that.” He speaks with malice and looks up at Patrick as he sits back down. Patrick looks at Henry with violent eyes. Henry meets his look with a similar look of his own.

“You got a problem Hockstetter?” He asks and leans forward. Patrick sets down his piece of a sandwich and rolls up his sleeves. You grab his hand and Patrick looks at you. His eyes are hard and his lungs felt like they froze up. Annoyed with how uncertain you were making him feel he left the table. Henry laughs and looks at you. “You’re breaking him, thanks, a lot bitch.”

Standing, Henry follows after Patrick leaving the table with an eerie feeling and Victor looks to you. “Don’t worry about it, Henry’s just mad that Patrick is more obsessed with you than kicking ass with us, or him per-say.” Belch nods and nudges your shoulder. “All Patrick ever talks about is you, how weird you are, how your so defiant, how you’re cute, and whatnot.”

“Wow Vic, I was beginning to think that all you did was pay attention to your phone.” Belch jokes and tosses some food at Vic. “Oh hush Huggins,” Vic turns to you. “Patrick and Henry are like two peas in a pod, there close and do a lot of fucked up shit together.” He speaks and drinks his chunky looking milk. “Now that Pat is all about you, again, Henry’s soft spot has gone cold.”

“What soft spot, Henry doesn’t even like me.” You mumble and sip your water. Belch and Victor share a look before looking at you. “Oh sweetheart,” Belch starts and chuckles. “You have no idea.”

You look between the two and furrow your brows. “What’re you talking about?” You ask and put away your things, preparing for the next bell. Belch laughs and checks his phone, “I gotta go you two, Marizta is texting and it is urgent.”

As Belch leaves, you look to Victor who is consumed with his phone and whoever is blowing it up. You come to the quick conclusion that he isn’t going to say anything to you so you say your goodbye and depart from him.

You take the long hallway to your locker. On the way there you think about what they said, Henry and a soft spot- that doesn’t sound right especially in a sentence. What also doesn’t sound right in a sentence is Henry having a soft spot for you... What would that mean? And why would Henry have a soft spot for you?? The thoughts came to a halt when you spot Henry and Patrick arguing by your locker.

“Dude, I just don’t get it.” Henry snaps at Patrick who starts pacing. “Do you think I understand?! I don’t get it either, I don’t get why I feel choked up and alive being with her! I fucking-- I don’t know!” He punched a locker by yours and pulled himself together, his eyes meet yours and Henry follows his gaze.

“Hi,” You murmur and walk closer to the two.

Patrick looks down at you with heated eyes and licks his lips. His hands are on your arms as he brings you to him. His heart was racing, his mind went back and forth with what he wanted to do next. Neither of his thoughts harmful.

But Patrick was plagued, he wanted to pull you into an embrace and hide you from Henry’s prying eyes.

“Jesus Pat,” Henry scoffed, Patrick looked up at Henry, holding you tightly to his chest as he glared at Henry. “What?” He spat and tangled his fingers into your curls. “She’s making you soft.”

Patrick rolled his eyes and scoffed. The bell rang and students filled the hallways surrounding the trio. Patrick hid you behind him and whispered something to Henry that made him look at you with heated eyes. He huffed and walked away and left you two alone. You look up at the boy and then look away when he turns around to face you. You start to exchange things in your locker but are stopped by Patrick’s soft cold hand. “Can we leave?”

You look up at him and study him before you nod and close your locker, he follows you out of the building and to the student parking lot.

You two didn’t get far when Patrick spun you around and wrapped his arm around your waist and tangled his hand into your hair as his lips press down on your own. He kisses you with a hot ferocity that makes you melt in his hold, relaxing completely. Both of you stood like that, kissing until Patrick pulled away and looked down at you. “What’re you doing to me?”

Patrick was abnormally silent as he smoked his cigarette. He watched you from his seat in your car, watching as the wind blew through your hair and how you acted as if you were alright. He was stumped, angry, confused. Normally he doesn’t feel so guilty about what he does, he never did. But with you, it was different, completely different and it angered him. He wanted to hate you for defying his ideation of who you’re supposed to be. You’re supposed to bend to his every whim even if he doesn’t speak it.

“What’re you thinking about?” You ask him as you turn down the familiar dirt road. Patrick looks at you fully and looks away.

He gets out of the car and you follow him to the large rock. Both of you sat and looked down over the quarry. “Are you okay Patrick? Did I do something wrong?”

Patrick laughs and exhales smoke before looking at you. “I don’t know.” He mumbles and sits on the ground, his back is against the rock that you sit on and he stretches his long legs. “Oh princess I don’t know.” He looks up at you, just in time to catch you become flustered with the nickname, you hated it.

“How do you do it, you’re still here even after I,” He stops himself and clears his throat. You cuddle into yourself, your knees to your chest and cheek on top of your knees. “Yeah it’s kind of weird isn’t it?” You ask, not particularly to him but to the open. “Yeah, pretty fucking weird.” He agrees.

He looks up at you and takes you in. “You, princess, are fucking beautiful.” You blush at the comment and hide your face. “And I want nothing more than to ruin your beauty with my world of fire.” He laughs and touches your knee gently. You meet his gaze but he had looked away.

“You’re crazy Pat,” you mumble and let him rest his head on your leg, softly running your fingers through his hair. “And maybe it makes me crazy too because I think I like it.”

Patrick laughs at you and faces you. “So you still like me.” He states and begins to stand, “I am so fucking happy that you do.” He cups your cheeks and kisses your lips again, making you melt into him like nothing else. The both of you erupt into a fit of laughter and kisses, his hands on you, memorizing your skin and body. Cementing your essence to his memory.


	7. Let's Try Again..?

News spread like wild fire that the _‘New girl’_ was now _Patrick’s girl._ Once again. The hallways were chattery but as you walked by, like a wave the silence came.

You didn’t mind it, you never did, but this time an anxious feeling crept on you. This particular morning, you woke up with a certain anxiousness and your hands were itching for a fight.

When you arrive at your locker, there’s a posted-note stuck to it. _You should try taking my picture sometime._ The handwritting wasn’t one you regocnized. It was too sloppy to be Victor’s and much more edgy and large to be Patrick’s. You mulled the writting over, thinking a bit too hard on where you could’ve seen it—the thinking was making your irate.

Snatching it down you crumbled it and shove it into your locker once it’s open. “Y/n,” the meek voice spoke. Turning your head, Greta stood with crossed arms. She tried to appear unbothered and uncaring but you read through that facade rather quickly. You stand back from your locker, giving her your full undivided attention. Her shoulders square tightly before she parted her overly glossed lips to speak. “Can we talk?”

“Isn’t that what you’re doing now?” Came your sarcastic reply, it was quick and sharp—unyielding if you will. You mulled the thought of beating Greta’s ass right here, and right now. It would definately help relive some of the built up stress and it would be done in a rightful maner. She would deserve it. “You know what I mean.” she says sadly, pulling you from your raging thoughts. 

Your locker came closing, the metal slamming and your eyes locking into place as the metal echos over the chatter of people before first bell. 

“No I don’t, but what I do know is,” you get close to her face, the look of sheer shock and maybe even fear strikes over Greta’s face. Her skin paled at your actions, know way had she thought you would become like this. You were now, in her mind, unpredictable. “You fuck him, and you’re screwed.”

Turning on your heel you begin to walk in the boys’ direction but stop and pivot. “Oh, and stop calling my house.” You tell her, almost tossing the remark over your shoulder before you walk into his embrace only to push him up against the lockers he was standing against. Patrick grins at you, licking his lips. You were going to scold him but the boy beside the both of you—the one who jumped when you practically slammed Patrick against the row of lockers speaks. “Jesus! If you’re going to bone at least warn someone.”

“Beep-beep Richie,” Pat speaks without looking at the kid. “You fuck her, or anyone else, and you’re screwed too.” You spoke harshly and walked off. You moved quick, to quick for Patrick to grab your arm and pull you back into his arms. 

For now, he would settle for watching your backside move deliciously and then disapear behind the wall when you turn heading off to class. When the bell rang you glided into your seat and was prepared…

Well, as much as you had liked to be.

***

Transitioning period is when it happened. Henry had grown a bit tired of your shit, as in, tired of you ignoring his little notes he’s left littered for you. When he saw you at your locker, shoving another one of his notes inside he erupted. Luckily for him, Patrick was stuck getting chewed out by a teacher for his disruption in class.

He approached your locker and slammed it shut. “You little shit.” He started, meeting your agitated gaze with a glare of his own. His feelings for you were riveting and close to the characteristics that of a Gemini; two faced and unsure. “I would’ve thought you liked the little shit, like notes.” Henry spoke to you with an agry snarl.

You shrug and bite your lip, his revelation sparking surprise and irritation in your gut. You had limited Henry to subtle racial slurs, micro aggression, and verbal bullying-not someone that would crush on you. “I’m really trying here, to accept you as _Pat’s girl_ or whatever but—“ you cut him off.

“You got a hard on for me? Or for my boyfriend?” The question wasn’t meant to be rude, but it was supposed to get a rise out of him. And a rise it did. Due to Henry’s daddy issues, and lack of communication skills, and being just a plain asshole, he pushed you. “Both of you are freaks.” He spat at you.

The push wasn’t too rough, but it was all you needed to spark. Thus, without much hesitation you tackled him and slammed your small fist into his face. The impact of the first punch wasn’t rough but it was enough to shock him, the later of punches began to injure him.

He took hit after hit before pushing you off of him. When he stood his right hook went straight into your gut, winding you. Not taken by surprise but definitely out of air you swing blindly, luckily punching him in his ear.

Now back on your feet you shrug off your bag and jacket as a circle forms around the two of you. Henry spits blood and wipes his ear before getting a hit to your face. His ring scrapes you but that only fuels the anger you had brewing, and you swing twice as fast and twice as hard. His head swings to the side unnaturally but he keeps his footing surprisingly.

He has a smug look on his face as you reflect a blank almost passive expression, but leave no mistake your eyes were on fire. As the crowd grew the punches became deadlier. The both of you no longer fighting to knock the other down, you were fighting to put him out. He was fighting, well because he found this almost enjoyable.

Who would’ve thought that _you_ could hold your own against Henry Bowers? He was one of the strongest students in this school—second to Patrick, but he could definitely hold his own—he had a reputation for having pretty narly right hooks. You? Had taken those hits in stride. Years of getting into fights had shaped you up remarkably… besides other things.

Your strength was unmatched until now, but still it had rang true. With out expection or any real training in fighting, Henry hits the ground breathless. You had taken the moment to round house kick him flat on his chest. His eyes meet your deadly ones and before you could pounce you were being hauled off.

You fought against the person holding you back as you watch Vic grab your things and run after you and whoever is holding you. Your mind went to Patrick, but as you look back to Henry and see Patrick helping him up you recognized the beefy arms to be Belch. “You’ve really dug yourself a hole here Y/N,” he scolds you. 

You remain silent before looking back up to Patrick and Henry. His eyes studying his friends face before he looked up and made eye contact with you. “Belch pick up the pace.” Victor speaks and pushes him, Patrick had began to stalk after the three of you.

“Put me down,” you spoke, your tone of voice was chilling and Belch did as you ask. “Y/n, you don’t want to fight Patrick,” he starts but you move him and Vic out of your way. On lookers watched as the couple met in the middle. 

Patrick was the first to make a move. He had grabbed you by your hair and slammed you against the nearest set of lockers. You pushed him backward and tackled him to the ground. You repeatedly struck him wherever you could land a blow. Some of your hits he blocked, others he couldn’t—not as quickly.

When he did find an opening he had taken his pocket knife out and stabbed you in your side. That alone was enough to get everyone to scatter. Your back was against the lockers as Patrick sat infront of you, his eyes voided pools. His pupils blown wide.

The silence between the both of you eery. Henry was still catching his breath when he saw Partrick stab you. Victor and Belch had started running to the both of you for your aid. Patrick was watching you carefully.

Slowly, you pulled the small blade from your side and dropped it on the floor. He sat back and watched you get up. You muster some strength, then kick him in his face. Patrick stares at you with a sly grin on his bloodied lips. You chuckle a little bit and hold your hand against the wound to slow down some of the bleeding. 

Henry came crashing into Hockstetter and the both of them began to fight as you grabbed your things from Vic. “I’m going home.” you tell them with a softness. 

Teachers were coming to see about the commotions, but by then all that remained was a bloodied knife and drops of blood that led out of the double doors.

***

Hiding the assault wasn’t easy when you got home. You bite your lip as you close the front door with your back. Your eyes swept the livingroom, to your luck Simon and Dad were sleep. Maybe you felt relief, or just thankful, or maybe even mad… You wouldn’t know. Your thumb and knuckle turn the lock and you turn on your heel to head upstairs. The walkup stung and burned, it felt like nails and rubbing alcohol bleed into your side, but you made it and held back the tears that blurred your eyes. You felt like you were going crazy. 

_Why am I so hurt by this?_ You bite your lip and stop at the top of the stairs. _Why am I crying about this? I should be angry, I should’ve kicked his ass…I should’ve,_ You let out a huff and scrub your face. Thankful you didn’t bring your bag inside, you’d do your homework later.

You didn’t see her until she turned around from closing your door.

Amanda froze up and turned pink in the face. _What the fuck…?_ “What were you doing in my room?” Your voice was clipped, angry even. That spark missing from earlier burns hot in your belly. Your fists clench and that ache of pain in your side was gone. “What the fuck were you doing in my room Amanda?” 

Her hands tightened around something shiny, you didn’t notice until you took a step forward. It was nearly unnatrual how you noticed it, almost as if you were running like a sadistic machine. You smiled, “Y/n, I was–” 

It was silent. Sound quieted in your ears so low you swear you could hear her heart beat, it kicked up and exoposed itself on her chest. She was lying to you, willfully and mournfully. You snapped. “Give it back,” Your voice was calm, too calm.

Amanda sneered at you, she twisted the metal of the weddingband in her fingers before clutching it in her fists. “No.” 

You were on her within the next beat of silence. You pushed her so hard into the wall you were sure you woke your dad and Simon. The little decorative table she put up crashed to the floor. “Give it back,” You boomed and Amanda smacked you. “Fuck you,” She cursed and pushed back. You tackled her and swung your fists hard into her face. 

And Amanda swung back, hitting you in your side, right where he… Rage flooded your viens and you kneed her in her body so hard she choked. Your hands were around her throat, but she wasn’t who she said she was…it was him. The boy you should’ve beaten up earlier in the day. His face clear as fuck in front of your eyes, his wickedly arousing smile on his face––the one that made you want to run because he was creepy. You squeezed harder, imagining vividly his face turning purple as his eyes rolled back. 

You could barely feel Amanda clawing at you, but the sound of an eery-gleeful laugh chilled you. For only a moment you feel like something else was watching you in the hallway, long and tall–Again you stop. You glare down at her, seeing her cough and spit to calm herself. Your anger was back. You punch her square in the jaw one final time.

You pick up your mothers wedding ring, pulled up the chain it was wrapped on and got close to Amanda’s face. “If you ever, _ever_ , try to steal from me and my mother again I’ll kill you.”

“Y/n” Your fathers deep voice reverberated over the walls and up the stairs. Faintly you could hear Simon whimper and your heart lerched. You turned around and looked down the stairs as your little brother looked up at you. He was horrified, but not by your actions. 

You felt a gush of blood rush down your side and you shivered. The blood, there was a lot of it. “You’re bleeding- AMANDA WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?” He hollered and the walls shook. 


	8. Glowing Eyes in the Quarry

Through the yelling and screaming of your father and Amanda, you were glad Simon was with you. He was brave, sitting there on the toilet seat as you sewed yourself up. In his hands, you let him hold the ring on the chain. “Does it hurt bubby?” He asks, his small voice shaking. You chuckled bitterly, but it was sweet.

“No, not that much baby.” He relaxed visibly. His big eyes shine up at you as you look down at him. You finish the stitch and tighten it to be sure you did it right. Slowly you turned and face Simon before you squat down to him. “Are you okay Simon?” you ask him gently.

He reaches out to touch your curly hair in a way that is so gentle and innocent. “Bubby, why that happen?” He asks, his grammar is poor and childlike. “Why you get hurt?”

You hesitate before you answer him honestly. “I made a few wrong turns,” it was a truth you knew he would understand, and his little nod proved it. “But that’s okay. It’s okay to make a few wrong turns. As long as you try to make the right ones along the way too.” You tried to encourage him and he nods. You smiled and leaned forward to kiss his forehead tenderly.

You hoped that he could forgive you, you learned that he would remain kind. Simon was such a sweet kid, and in moments like this, you realized to yourself that whatever angst you held against him –– you had to let it go, it wasn’t his fault.

Simon reaches forward to hug you and you scooped him up and walked through the hallway.

“I didn’t stab that stupid bitch-” Amanda screamed but was silenced into a gasp. A sharp, popping sound stunned the hallway. You looked over to your father and Amanda, she was leaned against the wall, holding her bright red cheek. Your father stood over her and glared. You held Simon’s head against your shoulder, to spare him from seeing what happened in the hallway.

Simon held on to you tighter and you shuffled to your room quickly. You closed and locked the door behind you and moved to the small vinyl your mother bought you when you turned thirteen.

You moved as quickly as you could to put on the new Beatles record- St. Peppers Lonely’s Hearts Club. Scuffling and screaming could be heard outside your room, but in time, you turned up the vinyl to flood their screaming. “You okay baby?” You asked Simon as you moved to put him down on your bed.

He shook his head, his cheeks now soaked with big dollop tears. You nodded at him and leaned down to calm him. “Breath Simon,” You tell him softly. “Slowly, in,” You demonstrated and he mimicked. “Out,” You let out your breath.

You continued to go back and forth until he calmed him down. His panic attacks were horrendous, and you couldn’t afford the cops being called, and then having your gossipy neighbors standing outside and talking to one another.

It was bad enough the relationship was interracial, and almost a third of Derry was racist. If you could spare the slip of rumors, you could spare the misery. You moved around your room, checking your clock, and grabbing a sweater and your jacket. You pulled your jacket around Simon and moved quickly to change your shirt and slip on the sweater. Simon had pulled one of your pillows into his arms, rocking back and forth. “It’s going to be okay Simon,” you tell him and scoop him into your arms.

The boy clings to you, you tuck the pillow under your arm and then search for a small bag. You find a tote bag you got when you were twelve, your mother had taken you to California for winter break. You stuff the pill and a small throw blanket inside before slinging it over your shoulder.

A few bangs sound against your door and Simon shrieks. “I’m scared bubby,” he cries. You try your hardest to you calm his nerves. “It’s going to be okay, we’re going alright baby. We’re gonna go on a drive, go get some food yeah?” You start to tell him.

You open up your window and start to scale. “You gotta hold on tight Simon, don’t let me go.” You tell him firmly. You feel his little hands tighten around the material of your hoodie, his legs tighten painfully around your waist.

As you swing your leg over the window sill, you latch onto the thick drain pipe. You manage to pull the window closed and you start to shimmied down the pipe. Your feet touch the first-floor roof over the back room. You settle both feet down and quickly run along the edge. Simon’s little cries soften.

When you get near the side of the house, you scale down as easily as you can without harming him against the harsh materials on the outside of your house. On the ground and on your feet, you rush to your car. Quickly, you place Simon inside. You lock the doors, set the bag on the floor in front of him, and turn on your car.

Within minutes you’re driving away from your house, as you turn on random streets in your neighborhood you look over to Simon as often as you can. At a stop sign. You reach into the tote bag, you set the pillow down, you ease him down, rubbing his back. You pull the blanket over his little body then turn on the heat. Simon looks at you with sad wet eyes. “Bubby?” He asks, his little voice cracking.

“It’s going to be okay Simon, I’ll protect you always okay. I’m always going to keep you safe.” You reassure him. He nods and scoots the pillow closer to your leg. You press the gas softly and drove into town.

You park at the diner, you shake Simon softly to wake him. “Wake up baby, you gotta get some food in your belly.” You tell him gently.

Simon lifts his head and rubs his eyes. His little chubby cheeks are red as he looks around. “Come on, I know you’re hungry.” You smile at him. He nods at you and reaches for you.

You help him out of the car, wincing when his leg tightens over your wound. You shift him to the hip opposite of your hip. Locking up your car you head into the diner. “Table for two?” The waitress asks.

“Can I get a single booth, by a tv?” You ask. She nods her head and leads you near a small corner. The booth faces the wall, and opposite a tv hangs in the corner. Not many patrons in the diner sat by you two. “Kids channel?” she asks. “Yes please,” Simon asks.

She nods, leaves to find a remote while you settle Simon in the booth. You look over the menu together. He picks out what he wants and you agree. “I love you bubby.” He tells you and snuggles into your side.

“I love you too baby,” You tell him and kiss the top of his head. The waitress comes back ready to take your order. You ask for two glasses of water, and a cheeseburger plate for Simon.

Simon leans against you, craning his neck up to watch the late-night cartoons he had watched earlier in the day. You lean back against the booth, your arm protectively around him, waiting for your food. As you sat, a shadow draped itself over your shoulders. You could feel something breath against your neck, you could feel something staring directly at you. _You’re quite the unpredictable type aren’t you Y/n_ , a voice hums by you’re ear. You’re frozen beside Simon, ice floats in the sea of your blood, feeling fingers curl around your upper arm. _Oh, do I have plans for you indeed_. An icy kiss is placed on your cheek, and suddenly you’re woken up.

Simon looks at you with his wide curious eyes, having already doused the french fries in ketchup. “Bubby why you crying?” He asks you. You blink once, twice, reaching up not to wipe your tears but you touch the fat of your cheek where you felt those lips.

They were cold, a bit chapped, and there was a bite to them that left your mind winding. You look around the diner before looking down at Simon. “Did you hear anything?” You ask him softly. His little eyebrows furrow as he stuffs his face.

He shakes his head, and easily, you’re swept into ‘parental-guardian’ mode. You pick up a napkin and wipe his cheeks, “Slow down Simon, don’t eat too fast, you’ll choke.” You murmur.

You eat a few fries yourself, cutting the cheeseburger in half, to share evenly with your little brother. “Can I get milkshake?” He asks, a light shining in his eyes. “You want a milkshake?” You smile at him, he smiles and nods up at you. “Yeah, the good ones you get!”

You chuckle and turn your head, raising your hand to call the waitress. As you do, you spot familiar tuffs of platinum blonde hair, and baby brown eyes collide with yours.

Victor leaves from beside his parents and comes to you. Out of gratitude, you stand up to greet him and he pulls you into a tight hug, squeezing you just above Patrick’s assault. “Shit bug, I thought you died.” He whispers into your neck. “It’s like a scratch,” You try to downplay it, “I’ll be fine.”

Vic stands back from you, his arms still around you as he checks you out. “You don’t look fine, you look like you’ve been hit by a bus.”

Rolling your eyes, you step back further, you lean your hip against the booth’s seat, blocking Simon from seeing Victor, and Victor from seeing Simon. “Honestly, I just need some sleep and some meds. I fixed it up pretty well.”

“Bug, you gotta stay low for a hot while. Patrick is like- psycho-”

“I can handle him.” You snap lowly. You look around for the waitress, determined to get Simon that milkshake. Victor watches you intently worry marring his features as he looks at you. His eyes trail down and meet Simon’s. The babe having peeked around his sister’s hip to catch a look at the boy.

Victor smiles as kindly as he could, but his smile was a forced smirk that left Simon cowering behind you. “Who’s this little squirt?” He asks, then looks to you. His eyes widen as he recognizes that you and the little boy look very similar. “Is he like, your kid?”

“What?” You look behind you to Simon and then to Victor. “No, he’s my step- he’s my little brother.” You correct yourself. “Treating him to a late dinner.”

“Mommy and dad-” You shake your head at Simon, to stop him from speaking about what was going on in your home. Victor smirks at you. “You sure? He looks just like you.”

Glaring at him you look him in his eyes. “I’m sure.” Victor smiles and pulls you back into his embrace. “I’m just teasing Y/n, but seriously. Promise me you’ll stay away from Patrick until he cools down.” You scoff but hug him back.

“And when is he finally gonna cool down?” You ask annoyed when pulling away. You had spotted the waitress and waved her over. “I don’t know, but I’ll call you if anything.” Victor waves at Simon as he walks to go find his family. The waitress comes over and you ask her for two strawberry milkshakes. When you sit down Simon looks at you, his expression is new, a bit mature for his age.

“What?” you ask him, he moves close to your face and cups your cheeks. “You don’t look like you got hit by a bus.” You chuckle and wrap your arms around him, hugging him to you. “It’s an expression.”

He nods, growing comfortable in your lap. You move the both of you, your back against the wall, him seated between your legs. You can see more of the restaurant like this, and in any worst-case scenario, you’d be able to wrap him up in your arms and hightail it out of there. But, within the moment, seeing Simon as eased as he was, was enough to put you at ease. You relaxed, poked at the food, and smiled at him whenever he caught your gaze.

After dinner, you paid your fare and wrapped up the sleepy toddler. You laid him down against the pillow, tucked him in, and drove off. You drove until you reached the quarry. Locking the doors to your car, you leaned against the window, you fought your sleep until you passed out… unaware of the glowing eyes watching you below.


End file.
